


Pale Shelter

by Nikocat



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Billy and hopper are still alive, Bullying, Coming Out, Coming of Age, F/M, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Will Byers, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jim "Chief" Hopper, Protective Mike Wheeler, Sad Will Byers, Slurs, Songfic sorta?, Ted Wheeler Being an Asshole, Teen Angst, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Will Byers Is Not Okay, one sided crush, ronald Reagan mention, sort of au because certain characters are still alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-06-25 04:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 79,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19738129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikocat/pseuds/Nikocat
Summary: Will Byers has had enough trauma to last a lifetime. He’s tired of always being the odd one out, of being the freak, the weirdo, of being zombie boy. Hasn’t he suffered enough? Will Byers has dealt with more than most, but can he deal with being a closeted gay kid in 1980s rural Indiana? Can he grapple with his budding feelings for his best friend? In which Will Byers attempts to come to terms with his sexuality.





	1. Disorder

**Author's Note:**

> *Trigger warning: This fic features period typical homophobia and tackles sensitive issues surrounding being a closeted teen in a rural town. There are slurs used throughout and instances of sexual and identity related violence. Cultural and time period relevant political content is also heavily featured and a major part of this fic. Mentions of HIV/ AIDS, targeted violence, and hints at child abuse are present.
> 
> Hopper and Billy are still alive and the Byers didn’t leave Hawkins because I don’t want to acknowledge the pain the Suffer brothers have caused me :( 
> 
> Also the fic title and every chapter will be named after 80s new wave songs because Will inherited Jonathan’s music taste. I don’t make the rules. The fic title is after the Tears for Fears song ‘Pale Shelter.’ Look it up, it’s a bop.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Will Byers struggles with the events of the past two years along with previously suppressed anxieties he tried to forget about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is titled after the song ‘Disorder’ by Joy Division. It’s a fitting start to an emotional roller coaster that is Will Byers’ adolescence. Some important info before we dive into Will Byers’ troubled teenage mind: This chapter alludes to conservative ideals and 80s politics surrounding LGBTQ+ people. There will be period accurate language, ideologies, and content. I just want to give my readers fair warning surrounding triggering topics because this is a safer space. Critiques are highly welcome!
> 
> I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand,  
> Could these sensations make me feel the pleasures of a normal man?  
> These sensations barely interest me for another day,  
> I've got the spirit, lose the feeling, take the shock away.  
> It's getting faster, moving faster now, it's getting out of hand,  
> On the tenth floor, down the back stairs, it's a no man's land,  
> Lights are flashing, cars are crashing, getting frequent now  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________________

Will Byers sat at the Wheeler’s dinner table just as he had plenty of times over the last several years. It was familiar, steady, comforting. The overhead lights cast a warm yellow glow over what looked to Will to be a decadent feast. Mrs. Wheeler’s famous meatloaf sat center stage, dripping with thick brown gravy. It reminded him of the kind of meal you see in a commercial, the stuff that makes you wish your mom was the lady in a Betty Crocker ad; especially the one with scalloped potatoes. He hated to admit it, but Karen Wheeler was a much better cook than his mom. Bless her soul, but Joyce always managed to mess at least one dish up, particularly mashed potatoes. Hers were always strangely _runny_. He lightly smiled to himself before digging in, his knife scrapping the bottom of Mrs. Wheeler’s pretty white floral Correlle plate. _Oh no_... He worried, his brow furrowing into a mess of concerned wrinkles. He took a sharp inhale. What if he ruined it? The plates in his house weren’t nearly that nice and most of them were worn or had chips in them, but Will knew Mrs. Wheeler kept things immaculate and he didn’t want to disrupt the neat order that seemed to permeate the model suburban household.

Will shoved an oversized bite of meatloaf into his mouth, swallowing hard as he looked around to see if anyone noticed his faux pas. The mouthful stuck in his throat, not because the meatloaf was dry, no it was practically perfect, but because he was a bundle of nerves. He’d been a bundle of nerves ever since he could remember, but over the past two years it became progressively worse. He could thank Hawkins lab for that. Between the demogorgan, being trapped in the upside down, being possessed by a demonic shadow monster...  _ the mindflayer.  _ He still felt him, even though the party was certain he was gone, Will still couldn’t shake the feeling that that  _ thing  _ was still out there. He instinctively brushed his fingertips against the back of his neck, his brows still knit in subdued anxiety. He must’ve caught Mike’s attention because he felt a pair of dark eyes in his direction. Dark, but warm. Warm in the way your mom hugs you, warm in the way hot chocolate feels on a cold December night, warm like the feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you  _like like_ someone. Will shook his head, snapping him back to the present. His eyes met Mike’s, whose face was awash with worry. Despite Will’s insistence that he was fine now, fine since the mindflayer disappeared, his best friend knew better. And now, seated at the Wheeler’s cushy dinning set, Will knew Mike saw right through him.

Mike raised his eyebrows, bobbing his head forward as if to silently ask Will if he was okay. Will swallowed hard, blinking vigorously before motioning with his fork and knife.

“ _The plate_.”  Will hissed in a whisper. 

A puzzled look plastered itself on Mike’s face.

“What are you talking about?” His voice low and quiet.

“I scraped it... the knife. I think I scratched the plate.” 

Will’s face still clung to worry, too neurotic to let go of the thought that he might have done something wrong. Mike let out a hushed  _pfft_ and smiled at his best friend.

“Didn’t hear a thing William,” He smirked. “I won’t say a word. And if mom asks I’ll tell her I did it.” 

He patted Will’s thigh in reassurance. His soft quiet voice was soothing and yet Will’s eyes widened with part trepidation, part exhilaration. It frightened him. He knew deep down that he wasn’t  _supposed_ to feel that way.

“What are you boys whispering about?” 

Ted Wheeler’s dull drawl pierced through their intimate moment. His loud, yet dry voice echoing in Will’s ears. Mike turned to face Will, grimacing slightly before muttering:

“It’s nothing dad.”

Mr. Wheeler hummed a low monotonous note before raising a forkful of potatoes to his mouth. He chewed mindlessly, almost mechanical. Everything Mr. Wheeler did was tedious. He reminded Will of a cow the way he chewed, the food swishing around his mouth aimlessly, as if he would never swallow. Will was scared to admit it, but he was sort of disturbed by Mike’s father. Not that he was terrifying, but he almost made Will uneasy. He could see Mike deliberately avoiding eye contact with his dad. What was he afraid of? It made Will wonder as he took a long, desperate drink of water. Dinner was dragging on  _way_ too long.

Just as the thought burrowed it’s way into Will’s brain he heard Mr. Wheeler clear his throat just loud enough to draw the boys’ attention.  Oh boy... Not another one of Ted’s ‘ _talks_.’ 

“You know boys,” Ted gave a calculated pause, propping his elbows on the table and interlacing his hands, his gaze intent and serious. “It’s rude to have side conversations at the dinner table. I’m not sure how you do it at yours, Will, but we eat as a family in this house.”

Will choked a little. He wasn’t sure if he should be offended or frightened. He could see Mike clench his jaw, his grip tightening around his knife. Mrs. Wheeler sputtered as she lowered her glass, her eyes wide, she she shook her head and lowered her chin.

“Ted...” 

“What Karen? I’m just making conversation? I can’t have a conversation?”

“ _Ted_.”  Mrs. Wheeler’s tone took on a serious plea.

The boys eyed each other. Will could feel his pupils flicking back and forth as he tried to contain his nervousness. Mr. Wheeler dabbed his mouth, the cloth of the napkin pressing deeper into the corners. He turned to face his son, elbow perched on the table and napkin resting beside his right hand. His gold watch glinted in the light as he adjusted his position.

“You’re what fourteen now, Michael?”

Mike nodded. His movement timid and his jaw clenched. Will could see him bouncing his leg underneath the table cloth.

“And you still haven’t learned to have table manners,” He turned toward his wife. “Karen, I think we’ve been too loose with our children.” He shook his head.

Mrs. Wheeler mouthed : ‘ _not now Ted, not in front of Will’_ but he kept going. 

“You know something, son. When I was your age I did what my parents told me to do. I didn’t talk at the table, I didn’t sass my mother, and I didn’t swear like a sailor. Jeez, what is with you kids today... a bunch of darn punks. We need to go back to the good old days, back when things were simpler. You know Karen, that’s what I like about our president. Ronald Reagan really understands the real  _American_.  He cares about the working man, pushing out the commies, and about stopping the corruption of our youth. He’s a real man’s man. He has my respect.”

He shifts his gaze towards Mike, towards Will. His eyes were like shrunken raisins behind his thick glasses, dry and stale. 

“That’s what you kids today lack,  _respect_.” 

Mr. Wheeler returned to his plate, carving off a sliver of meatloaf and stuffing it into his mouth.

Will’s hands felt clammy, his face was hot. He looked to his best friend. For once it was him who wondered if Mike was okay. Mike looked dejected, distant even. It pained Will to see him like this. He’d only seen it a handful of times; when Nancy stopped playing with them, when he and Mike stopped having all the same classes together, and when El disappeared for 353 days. That was the worst of it.  _Eleven_.  Will could tell just how much Mike cared about her. It was profound and intense, almost too intense for someone of a mere 14, but somehow Will understood. He understood a lot more than most. His mom always told him he was sensitive. She was right. Will Byers was sensitive. He was a shy, thoughtful kid who cared way too much about his friends and, unfortunately, what other people thought of him. He worried what Mike thought of him too. He worried that they were drifting further apart. That Mike was more preoccupied on girls and high school and growing up while he, Will, was still struggling to be 14. He couldn’t help feeling that the last two years were stolen from him, that he was struggling to catch up. He didn’t want to catch up. He wanted to stay 12 years old a little while longer, to live in the world where he was still in Hawkins middle playing D&D every weekend. He yearned to escape back to a time where he didn’t have to worry about the demogorgan, the mindflayer, the upside down, growing up, and  _girls_.  Especially girls.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Will mostly pushed around the last few remainders of his food until Mrs. Wheeler asked the boys for their plates. Will insisted on walking his and Mike’s over to the sink, he wanted to be on Ted’s good side. Karen gave him a gentle smile and commended him on being so helpful. It made him feel good to be useful, it took his mind off of his fear of disappointing people. Mike followed suit, clearing the remainder of meat and potatoes to the counter before thanking his mom for the meal. He tugged at Will’s shirt, motioning for him to follow him to the basement. It was a Friday night after all, movie night with the party. Dustin, Lucas, Max, and El would all be there soon to gorge themselves on popcorn laced with Reese’s pieces (Will’s favorite,) argue over which video to pop in, and relish in each other’s company. Tonight was Dustin’s turn to supply the selection. Will hoped there would be something they could all agree on. He hated the bickering that usually ensued, though he never objected to the eventual choice— even if he didn’t like it. Will was too nice to argue.

The boys put some jiffy pop on the stove, laughing over Jennifer Hayes‘ huge crush on Michael J. Fox and how she went on and on about how cute he was in  _Family Ties_ last term. They thought it was hilarious how infatuated she was with a guy she had no chance of ever even meeting. As Will watched the foil top of the popcorn rise into a perfect bubble, Mike grabbed a bowl from an overhead cabinet. Will was lost in thought, his mind still swimming with the anxiety of dinner. Why was he like this? Why was he always so tense? Why was he so  _weird_?  He already knew the answer, it was buried deep down. It was under lock and key in an iron safe at the bottom of the ocean. He refused to go there, refused to open that door. It was too terrifying, almost as scary as the mindflayer. And just like the mindflayer it always lurked in the shadows, threatening to rear it’s ugly head. He tried to pull himself away from the endless spiral he seemed to be in, but it was proving more difficult than he thought.  _That’s what I like about our president. Ronald Reagan... He’s a real man’s man._ The words danced around in Will’s head until it made him dizzy. Will knew all about Reagan. He’d heard enough on the tv, at school, from the scathing words his mom directed at the president.  _That man! That man! I swear to god if he raises taxes one more damn time I’ll march all the way to the White House and slap him myself_.  Yes, Will knew all about Reagan.

He couldn’t help but remember Troy and James snickering in the back of Mr. Clarke’s class.  _Reagan hates fags. My dad says so._ Will brushed his fingers over the back of his head, remembering the crumpled wad of paper Troy pelted at him.  _Fairy_ . He never showed the note to his friends, hastily stuffing it into his backpack instead and ripping it to shreds when he got home. He remembers crying in his room, muffling his sobs into his pillow so that Jonathan or his mom didn’t hear. He didn’t want them worrying about him. He didn’t want anyone to know. He stopped telling people about Troy’s torment, no one listened anyway.

“Will? Will!” Mike shook him gently. “The popcorn?! It’s gonna explode!” 

Will shook his head, turning his attention to the stove.  _Shit. Shit._ He’d forgotten, he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. How stupid. How fucking stupid. He rushed to turn the knob. He stood there, eyes wide with humiliation. How could he be so careless? He let out a long exhale. 

“S-Sorry. I’m sorry, Mike.” He stuttered.

“Will, it’s just popcorn. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize all the time.”

It’s just popcorn.  Will breathed a sigh of relief.

As the boys headed to the basement, spoils in hand, Mike looked back to see if Ted was still awake. As usual Mr. Wheeler was passed out in front of the tv, head cocked to the side and remote gripped firmly in his meaty hand. He carefully pulled the door closed behind him, making sure not to rouse his father. It was kid time. No adults, no scoldings no serious stuff; just the party, snacks, and some good old fashioned fun. Mike smiled down at Will from the top of the stairs, letting out a goofy laugh. They never quite understood how Mr. Wheeler could doze off like that every night. Mike regarded Will carefully. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he placed his hand on the smaller boy’s shoulder, maneuvering him into turning around. His eyes were apologetic, sad even. They swam with a wealth of concern. Once again He smiled at Will, offering him reassurance.

“I’m sorry about my dad… he can be, well, kind of an ass sometimes.”

Will shrugged, clutching the bowl full of popcorn a little too tight. He tried to look Mike in the eye, but he couldn’t he was afraid he would see right through him, right into that well guarded safe.

Mike could tell, he somehow knew, exactly what it was that was troubling his best friend. He always did. Will wasn’t sure why or how they had this unspoken bond, but it was one of the only things that he felt safe in trusting. He trusted Mike, Mike trusted him. They always had each other’s backs and to Will that was one of the things that mattered most in the world to him. As he held Mike in his gaze he noticed Mike shifting his weight from foot to foot, rubbing circles into the floor with the toe of his converse. His eyes averted toward the ground. Mike let out a drawn out sigh, trying to find some words of wisdom or perhaps solidarity with him. Mike wasn’t Will the Wise, but he could craft a bounty of insight with words. It was one of his greatest strengths. Something Will admired him for.

“Why does my dad have a hard on for stupid Reagan anyway? He’s a prick. He’s gotta be if Troy’s dad likes him.” He looked Will in the eye, raising his eyebrows.

Will laughed, a wave of relief washing over him. He felt strangely happy. Happy in the knowledge that Mike was always and consistently loyal.

“Come on, it’s 7:30. The party should be on their way. Let’s radio Dustin.”

The two of them settled on the floor, Mike sitting with his legs criss crossed as he extended the antenna of his walkie. He clicked the button, static emanating from the speaker.

“Dustin this is Mike, do you copy? Over.”

They waited several moments before the distinct crackle of an incoming message filled their ears.

“Biking over now! Got the loot, guys. Oh and Will, I have have your Amazing Spider-Man 252. Over”

“Get your ass over here man! My mom‘ll be pissed if we’re up past 12 and you know that it takes forever to pick a movie! Over.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. Don’t’ worry, I’m just passing Lucas’s. Over and out.”

With that the static faded out.

“Lucas next?” Will pointed to the walkie-talkie. Mike nodded, smile still plastered firmly in place.

“Hey Lucas! Mike and Will, are you almost here? Over.”

Several minutes passed with no response until suddenly the walkie crackled to life.

“No this is Erica. Shut it barf face. He isn’t here he already left with is _girlfriend_.” She mocked.

  
The boys both rolled their eyes. Erica could be, well, so _Erica_. An abrupt knock interrupted their annoyed groans.The two of them instinctively tensed, jolting slightly with anxiety. Mike turned to look at the basement door, the shining white teeth of Lucas’s overeager smile framed by the window. Will breathed a sigh of relief as Mike pushed himself off the floor. _It’s about time._ The door swung open. Lucas clapped his hand into Mike’s bumping shoulders followed by Max, El, and Dustin. Lucas waved a packet of Reeses Pieces and tossed them at Will who surprised himself by catching them. He thanked him as the rest of the party filled the room, kicking off their shoes and making their way to the couch. Dustin sat to the left of Will, flinging himself back on the sofa with ease. He set his backpack on the floor and rummaged around for several minutes, retrieving the evening’s entertainment. Mike turned toward the girls, a ponderous look making its way across his face.

“How’d you convince Hopper to let you out, El?” His voice a mix of concern and excitement. He didn’t want the chief to disrupt their evening. He didn’t want El to have to go.

“Snuck her out. Told Hopper she was sleeping at mine.” Max smirked, proud of her and El’s little deception.

El gave a shy smile, blushing slightly as she looked from Max to Mike. Will couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. He always did when Mike’s attention averted toward her. He didn’t know why.

As the lot of them settled in, positioning themselves on and around the couch, Dustin bragged that he had persuaded his mom into letting him rent more than 2 movies this time; _The Terminator, Ghostbusters_ (for the millionth time,) _A Nightmare on Elm Street, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ , and _The Karate Kid_. Of course they all argued among themselves, going back and forth in a battle between boys and girls. Max pushed for _The Karate Kid,_ roping El into joining her. Lucas was keen on The _Terminator_ , he went on and on for several minutes about how cool Arnold Schwarzenegger was. He pled with the girls to take his side, bringing up Sarah Connor’s bonafide bad-assery, but they wouldn’t budge. Dustin and Mike whispered off to the side, Will only half listening to their hushed voices. Mike yelled out “ _Nightmare! Nightmare on Elm Street_!” Dustin folded his arms and nodded in agreement, a goofy grin plastered on his face. Will shifted his legs, he was seated crisscrossed on the floor, rubbing his hand back and forth over the pile of the carpet. He shot his gaze up to meet Mike and Dustin. He wasn’t sure which movie to pick, but it definitely wasn’t Karate Kid. He Watched Mike as he argued with Lucas who was now, of course, on Max’s side. The party was split so to say.

“Will?” Mike shrugged. “What’s your pick?”

At this point Will wasn’t at all conflicted, definitely Nightmare, but he found it difficult to get the words out. His tongue was suddenly so dry. He wasn’t sure if it was him who wanted to watch it or if it was because Mike wanted to. He parted his lips to speak, but he felt himself fumbling. Gathering himself he blurted:

“ _Nightmare on Elm Street!_ ” Flashing a smile at Mike.

“Great… it’s a freaking tie.” Dustin said as he lowered his head in his hands.

Lucas began to look conflicted, staring back and forth between Max and the boys, but he didn’t say a word. Mike stood up, pacing for several moments before pausing abruptly and turning to face his friends.

“We’ll roll for it!” Will exclaimed, knowing exactly where Mike was going with this.

The girls looked at each other, confused glances exchanged between them. Dustin lifted his head from his hands and nodded vigorously, he clapped Will on the back acknowledging his, well, Mike’s wit. Mike made his was toward the gaming table, plucking a d20 from an overstuffed pouch. He waved it in his hand triumphantly, leaning to to send it at Will.

“We’ll roll for it,” Mike repeated “one to ten we watch _The Karate Kid_. Elven to twenty it’s _Nightmare_!”

Will nodded, shaking the dice vigorously until letting it loose onto the carpet. Everyone leaned in close in anticipation. Will eyed the dice, hoping it was high enough. He swallowed hard before reaching for the red plastic polygon. He held it between his fingers, a small smile curling across his lips.

“Thirteen.” He smirked, proudly showing it off.

“Oh yeah!” Dustin exclaimed, high-fiving Will and Mike.

“Suck it, Lucas.” He boasted.

“Get ready to wet your pants. I hope you don’t get too scared.” Mike said, an air of smugness peppering his voice.

Will couldn’t help but laugh, he had to admit it was pretty funny seeing the look of utter defeat on Lucas and Max’s faces.

Dustin handed the tape to Mike, sticking his tongue out at Lucas and Max who collectively rolled their eyes—though Will could tell Lucas was secretly relieved his didn’t have to watch Max ogle over Ralph Macchio. Eleven sat there, almost indifferent. It wasn’t like she had really been exposed to too many movies and Will was pretty sure she didn’t actually care one way or another what they watched as long as she got to spend time with them. To spend time with _Mike_. Will swallowed hard, he wasn’t sure why the thought of El and Mike made him so uncomfortable. It just did. 

As the movie began to flicker onto the screen the party arranged themselves accordingly on to the sofa. Max next to Lucas, Dustin squished into the arm, El curled up to Mike, and Will; of course like always, was relegated to the floor. He sat at Mike’s feet, just to the right of him, close enough to brush against his leg yet far enough away that it wasn’t awkward. Will hated that he always got the short end of the stick. He would never complain though, always afraid of upsetting people. He disdained conflict, constantly wanting to please everyone. And so Will was always inconspicuous, never letting what he wanted to get in the way of other people’s comfort. He was terrified of being bad, of disappointing people.

When Freddy Krueger appeared on screen for the first time Will felt a jump behind him, a small gasp escaping escaping out into the room. He turned his head to look toward everyone scrunched up on the couch. Dustin’s eyes were glued to the tv, unflinching. He definitely wasn’t scared. He liked these kind of movies. Will’s eyes drifted toward Lucas and Max. She was peeking through her fingers, eyes simultaneously intrigued and freaked out while her other hand tightly gripped Lucas’s. Their fingers intertwined, Lucas obviously relishing way too much in Max’s subtle reliance. Slowly Will drifted his gaze toward El and Mike. Her head was rested on his shoulder, their hands laced together as Mike rubbed hers with his thumb. Will’s heart sank. He felt a rush resentment beginning to rise within him. He tried to stuff it down, but it wouldn’t stop. It just festered and festered over the course of the movie as he saw Mike and El snuggling up to each other with each passing sequence. Something inside him kept forcing him to look, despite how much it bothered him. It grossed him out. He didn’t want to see his best friend cozying up to some girl, though Eleven wasn’t just some girl. She was their friend and Mike cared deeply about her. Will did too, but not in the same way. Definitely not in the same way. He felt at once alone and claustrophobic. Everything seemed so intense. His face felt hot and his hands were sweaty, but he kept trying to make the feelings subside. He remembered the mindflayer. He remembered how scared he had been. How Bob told him to tell the things he feared to go away. And Will absolutely feared _these_ feelings. _Go away. Go away. GO AWAY_! He thought, slowing his breathing until at last he felt some sense of relief.

He tried desperately to distract himself. Letting the movie engross him, though he could feel himself drifting in and out of being present, almost like splitting between Hawkins and the upside down. It wasn’t the same though. It wasn’t sinister so much as unsettling and so he fixed his eyes on the tv, trying not to let himself go there. He’d rather be frightened by the movie than relive those memories. When Glen appeared on screen again, the girl Nancy in the movie’s boyfriend, Will felt his heart skip a beat. His eyes fixed on the actor; a young man, probably a little older than Jonathan. His coiffed brown hair and dark eyes, the curve of his lips; he left Will feeling flustered. He couldn’t help but stare. The actor was objectively attractive… Johnny something? He was laid across a bed, clunky headphones covering his ears. Will watched him intently. He was strangely mesmerized. His eyes studied Glen; his shirt, a white tee with a blue number ten plastered across the front exposed his stomach. He was wearing a crop top. Will had only seen that one other time on Max’s brother Billy. Only this time the sight of Glen’s physique gave him a strange feeling in the pit of stomach, like a knot twisting, butterflies making their way to his chest. _No, no, no._ He wasn’t supposed to look at boys that way. It wasn’t normal. He wasn’t _normal_. He felt his hands balling into fists, trying to pull himself away from his thoughts. He felt tear welling up in his eyes. He hated himself. Hated himself for being different. Why couldn’t he be like Dustin or Lucas? Like Mike? Why couldn’t he be into Jennifer Hayes or Stacey? He was hopeless. Deep down he couldn’t help but think Troy and James were right. That his dad was right. He was a stupid queer. He was disgusting and deserved to be bullied, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

As the movie continued Will felt himself becoming more and more afraid. Was it his thoughts, was it the movie? He couldn’t be totally sure, but the collective fear in the room wasn’t helping. Once again he looked back to the rest of the party behind him, studying their reactions as Freddy Krueger picked off his victims. Will felt like a victim. A helpless, pathetic victim. Of the upside down, of Hawkins, of bullies, of his feelings. He felt his eyes flick toward Mike and Eleven. Her head was buried in the crook of his neck, her eyes too afraid to look at the screen. She squeezed his hand, Mike embracing her as he himself tried to swallow his own budding movie induced anxiety. Will felt himself slipping into envy. He knew he was jealous and it wasn’t because he liked El. No it was something else, something he wasn’t ready to admit. Once more he turned back to the tv just in time to witness the pointed claws of Freddy Krueger snatch Glen into the void of his bed. Will gasped, nerves overtaking him. He froze in horror as Glen was dragged further and further into the pit in his bed until an explosion of blood erupted from the mattress like a geyser. Will’s breathing hitched, goosebumps prickling up his arms as he grasped for something to hold onto. His hand caught something, clutching it tight. He could feel warmth beneath his fingertips, the feel of denim. He turned to gaze at his hand. Mike’s leg was squeezed beneath it. He instinctively jerked his hand away, his heart racing so fast he thought it might stop. He felt Mike move behind him, leaning down to rest his hand on Will’s shoulder.

“Will, are you ok?” He whispered. “We don’t have to keep watching if you don’t want.”

Will couldn’t bear to face Mike. He couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was afraid Mike would see right through him.

“I’m fine.” He lied, in a half desperate whisper.

 _Oh no_. Will thought. He was coming to the realization that maybe he _liked_ Mike. And that was far more terrifying than a clawed glove wielding serial killer.


	2. Shake the Disease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sleepless night, Will can barely keep his composure. It’s hard to both resent and love your best friend, especially when you aren’t supposed to have those kind of thoughts. In which Will’s self loathing begins seeping out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slurs are heavily featured in this chapter. Baby boy, my poor son. Will, sweetie, I’m so sorry that an ugly ass bitch (me) would even hurt you! Oh my god. Also! Thank you so much for the all the kudos and feedback. It makes me so happy :) 
> 
> This chapter is titled after the Depeche Mode song ‘shake the disease.’ 
> 
> ‘I'm not going down on my knees,  
> Begging you to adore me  
> Can't you see it's misery  
> And torture for me  
> When I'm misunderstood  
> Try as hard as you can, I've tried as hard as I could  
> To make you see  
> How important it is for me’  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________________

Will lie wide awake in his sleeping bag. Another restless night. Around him he could hear the shallow breaths of his friends, see the subtle rise and fall of their chests, he could make out 3 distinct silhouetted bodies. The girls had long since left, Max and El borrowing Lucas’s bike so they could sneak back to the Hargrove’s. Will closed his eyes, an unwanted scene playing out beneath his scrunched eyelids. El and Mike. The goodnight kiss they shared just before she left. He couldn’t stop replaying them cupping each other’s faces and touching foreheads, longingly looking into the other’s eyes. It stung. It stung so badly that he could feel it welling up behind his eyelids. Will tried to stop the tears from coming, he tried so hard, but he couldn’t hold them back and the floodgates burst open. Salty tears streamed down his cheeks, making their way toward his jaw and rolling past his ears. It was a strange sensation to cry flat on his back facing the ceiling. The tears flowed sideways instead of down. Will hated crying. He hated how much it drained him every damn time, how he could feel it in his body. Overwhelmed with emotion, he resigned to silent sobs. He suppressed his hiccups and gasps with each quiver of his lip. He would be mortified if anyone heard him. He could feel himself shrinking, retreating into a ball beneath the covers. Will felt himself shake with each whimper. He cursed himself for being so weak. There was a lump in his throat, a great terrible lump that seemed to get bigger by the minute. He could barely breathe. He was suffocating and no one was the wiser.

He stared into the darkness, eyes open wide. He hoped it would swallow him whole. Will admitted defeat. He was _afraid_. Afraid of himself, afraid of the truth, afraid of what people thought of him. Inside he already knew what people thought, or at least he thought he did. For Will it was obvious. Everyone seemed to judge him, even his friends. Though he knew they’d never admit it, they pitied him. They felt bad for _him_. Will hated when people worried about him, it made him feel like a burden and that was the last thing he wanted. Everyone babied him. His mom, his teachers, the doctors. He just wanted it to stop. All at once he was a scared little kid and someone wise beyond their years, someone made to grow up much too fast. He kept trying to stuff his feelings down, but it was no use; the tears kept coming. Will wrapped his arms around his sides, clutching them tightly. So tight that his fingers dug hard into his skin. It hurt. He wanted to scream, not a fearful scream but a desperate one, an angry one. He was angry with himself. He wasn’t trying hard enough to be normal. _Just try harder. Stop being a baby. Stop being a faggot._ He could hear his dad inside his head. _Faggot. Faggot. Faggot._

Will wanted to forget. He wanted to forget about the upside down, about the mindflayer, about Troy and James, and about his dad. It didn’t matter what Jonathan said, no matter how many times he reiterated that he shouldn’t waste his time waiting for their dad to love him— he desperately wanted Lonnie to love him. He wanted his approval. He wanted it so bad that he pretended everything was fine, he pretended to be what he thought his dad wanted. Will felt as though he was always pretending and he was tired of it. This was one prison his he couldn’t be rescued from. Not by his mom, not by Jonathan, not by his friends. He would have to rot there, _alone_. The mere thought of it made Will panic. He felt as though he were going insane, like he was crazy. He thought of Mike. _Crazy together._ He clung to those words. Why did Mike always know what to say? Why was he so kind and loyal? Will didn’t feel worthy of a friend like that. He didn’t deserve Mike and yet Mike stayed. Will took refuge in that. He could always count on Mike, _always_. Then a sinister thought crept its way into the back of his mind. But… What if he couldn’t? What if Mike was only pretending to care about him? What if, what if Mike found out what he really was? Would he still stay? As old tears dried up on his cheeks fresh fat ones formed in the corners of his eyes. He was stuck in a downward spiral, falling deeper and deeper into the darkness where a monster was waiting to claw it’s way out. Will felt utterly alone _._

He bit his lip, pressing down harder and harder in a feeble attempt to stifle the storm brewing inside him. He bit so hard he drew blood. _Shit_. He could taste the distinct metallic tang pooling on his bottom lip. It threatened to drip onto the pillow. _Mrs. Wheeler’s pillow._ Will jolted upright with the thought of ruining something else, of messing up. He scrambled his way out of the sleeping bag, struggling with zipper before tiptoeing to the bathroom. Despite his carefullest efforts, the floor boards creaked beneath his feet. Will winced, guilt working its way through his whole body as he shut his eyes tight and took a deep breath. _Please don’t wake up._ He pleaded to the ether. He didn’t need to be smothered with people’s concern right now. No, he needed to escape. Will collected himself as he made his way to the bathroom, making sure to open the door as gingerly as possible. He breathed a sigh of relief once the door was securely shut behind him, not even a squeal. He was grateful. Much more grateful than he probably should’ve been. He switched on the light, a dim glow flickering above him as he approached the sink. Will studied himself in the mirror. He was undeniably unhappy with what stood before him. His reflection was more of a hollow shell. A shell of a boy who was supposed to be busy being fourteen. Instead he was a distant echo. An empty, hopeless echo. He rose his hand to his lips, eyeing as his reflection followed his movements. He felt as if he were watching someone else, someone he didn’t recognize. In the mirror was Will Byers, but it wasn’t the Will he wanted to be. He wasn’t sure what that meant anymore _._

Will’s fingers grazed the wet red splotch that had begun to drip onto his chin. His eyes flicked toward the blood that was now settling into the grooves of his fingertips. It should’ve disturbed him, but instead he felt distant. He felt as if he was watching someone else, as if he were in a movie. Perhaps he was like Glen in _Nightmare_ and would be dragged into the mouth of his sleeping bag. But instead of being in Freddy Krueger’s collection of souls he’d be the demogorgon’s prey, condemned to the upside down. Maybe it would’ve been better if his friends had stopped looking for him, if his mom never picked up the phone or hung the lights, if she and Hopper never found him, if he never called for help. Perhaps he should’ve died there… then he’d never have to face this monster. He grabbed some toilet paper, wiping his stained hands onto the crumpled wad. He proceeded to wipe the blood from his chin and dab the bite mark in small deliberate pats until eventually he just held it there. He met his own eyes in the mirror. He was tired, so very tired. The dark circles settling beneath his wild eyes seemed to only grow darker by the minute. He hated the way he looked. He was scrawny, too scrawny. He still had a baby face, making him appear younger and more vulnerable. He was vulnerable, but damn it he didn’t want to look it. Will clutched the sides of the sink as he picked himself apart. He stared himself down. Raising a finger toward the Will opposite him, he pointed to his reflection. It was an angry gesture, the kind you’re met with when an adult is disappointed in you. He wagged his finger over and over again, his slight frame trembling with a silent resentment. He grimaced, scrunching his face into distressed scowl as he violently twisted his finger into the reflection’s face. _You’re worthless. You’re worthless, Will Byers. You pathetic little fag. You’re nothing. You deserve to feel this way. You deserve everything that’s happened to you. Nobody cares about stupid Will. Pfft. Will the Wise. Who would believe that. You’re a coward. A useless fucking coward._ He swallowed hard, red rimmed eyes unable to prevent blinding tears. _Nobody loves you and when the find out the truth they’ll all leave. Just like dad._

He yanked his hand back to his side and stood perfectly still. Letting out small, uneven hiccups he closed his eyes and let the tears pool in the corners. Clenching his jaw, he tried to will himself out of what he now realized was a panic attack. His eyelashes fluttered, pupils dilating as he caught his reflection once more. With out warning, with out really thinking Will smacked himself across the face as hard as he could. It stung, the skin prickling with electricity. He stood there dumbfounded as he watched a red welt appear on his cheek. The stinging began to subside after several painstakingly drawn out moments, but that was only the physical sting. The emotional pain still lingered. Will turned on the faucet, quickly splashing his face with tepid water. It wasn’t nearly cold enough, but it would have to do. He made one last attempt to compose himself before turning off the light and making his way back to the basement den. He snuck back to his sleeping bag. As he crawled inside he could make out the faint rustle of someone tossing and turning. He swallowed hard, praying no one would wake up, that none of them had heard him.

“Will?” A groggy Mike croaked.

Will’s eyes widened in terror, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach.

“Will?” Mike repeated. “Are you okay?”

He struggled to face Mike. Taking several deep breaths he let a hushed reply escape.

“I’m okay. It was just a nightmare.”

“The upside down? The mindflayer?” Mike’s voice was burdened with genuine concern for his best friend.

“Yeah.” It was easier for Will to lie about it even if it pained him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“N-no. I’ll… I’ll be okay, Mike.” Will’s voice hitched.

“Okay. You can move your sleeping bag closer if you want. You know, in case you need something.”

Will could feel Mike’s small smile, even in the darkness. He could sense the genuine worry that probably etched itself onto Mike’s brow. As much as Will wanted to lay next to Mike, to be sandwiched between his friends and feel safe, he was afraid to let himself. Instead he resigned to being alone, even though he knew his self imposed isolation wasn’t the best idea.

“It’s okay. I’ll see you in the morning. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Mike let out a sleepy hum before drifting back to sleep. But Will, Will didn’t sleep at all.

In the morning, as the sun peeked through the sliver of basement window, Will lamented the daybreak. He didn’t want to have to face his friends just yet, to see the looks on their faces when they saw his tired eyes and slight scabbed lip. He sighed, raising his hand high above his head and twisting it in the light. His pale skin peaked through the retreating shadows causing him to frown. He carelessly, or more accurately— dejectedly, dropped his limp hand onto his face. A small smack echoed into the room, but at this point Will didn’t care, he already felt exposed. As he sulked, he could hear the familiar sounds of Lucas yawning. The boys were beginning to stir. One by one they stretched and groaned and rubbed the sleep from their eyes. Dustin smacked his lips together, wrinkling his nose as he tasted his morning breath. Lucas leaned his head onto the coach, tapping the cushions as he looked for his watch. _8:30 am_.

“It’s way too early to be awake. It’s fucking summer.” Mike grumbled as he pushed himself onto his elbows.

He looked around with half lidded eyes, still sleep laden and groggy. Mike caught Will in his sights and he flashed him a warm smile. His freckled cheeks were highlighted by the sunlight beginning to fill the room. He had a serious case of bed head, unruly curls sticking up in various directions. Will smiled back at him, feeling the unwanted flush of pink creeping across his cheeks. The way Mike looked at him made him feel lightheaded. His heartbeat quickened, his palms felt sweaty, and he couldn’t help but find him charming. He swallowed hard. It felt wrong, but Will almost didn’t care. _Almost_.

Mike sat up, stretching the stiffness from his body. He looked around the room at the other boys, appraising their various states of alertness.

“Anybody hungry?” He beamed.

Lucas nodded vigorously as Dustin let out a loud, prolonged yawn.

“Something’s wrong with you if you AREN’T.” Lucas exclaimed.

The boys all let out deep, hearty laughs. Tears formed at the corner of Will’s eyes. They were happy tears, welcome ones. They stood in stark contrast to the ones he cried last night. He needed this. 

Lucas and Dustin climbed out of their blankets, tossing them carelessly as they prepared to head upstairs. Will curled in on himself, drawing his knees toward his chest. He was exhausted and utterly worn, but he didn’t want his friends to see. He didn’t want to worry them. He sat in deep contemplation, trying to vigorously blink the fatigue from his eyes. He sighed before noticing a row of slender, spindly fingers dangling in his face. The hand belonged to Mike. It was pale, paler than his own, and the fingers seemed to go on forever. He looked up at Mike, a cheerful smile welcoming him. Once more he extended his hand, offering it to Will. He grasped Mike’s wrist as the taller boy firmly yanked him to his feet. He could feel the heat radiating between their palms. As he stood to meet Mike, he almost wanted to refuse to let go. He wanted it to last a little longer, to relish in their contact. He smiled to himself, letting go of his worries, if only for a moment.

“Ready to head up?”

As they climbed the stairs, Will stayed behind for a minute, standing alone in the empty room. He watched them as they disappeared from the doorway, eyes trailing after Mike. Will grazed his tongue over the scab on his lip, glad that no one had noticed. He wasn’t in the mood for questions. He let out a final sigh before gathering himself to make his way to the dining room. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the overwhelming sense of dread that threatened to escape. No, he was supposed to be having fun. It’s summer, he’s with his friends. He’s with _Mike_. He just needed to get through, take it minute by minute. Will wasn’t about to let himself wallow in self doubt, no he wanted to enjoy his summer like any other kid. He’s just a kid.

When Will finally made his way to the table the boys had all taken their seats, laughing at something he had missed, but Will being Will, he was too afraid to ask. He didn’t want to disrupt their fun. He didn’t want to be a buzzkill or insert himself where he felt he didn’t belong. Silently, he took the empty seat between Lucas and Mike. Dustin was across from him, mouth open mid laugh. Will smiled, acting like he understood. Sometimes Will felt like all he did was act and pretend. It felt awful. He was a liar, a big fake and soon, he thought, everyone would see through his charade. Will frowned slightly, looking down at the table, he placed his hands where he could see them and drummed his fingers nervously. His eyes darted back and forth between his friends, trying to follow the conversation, but at this point they had already moved on from where they were when Will first joined them. His frown deepened and his shoulders dropped. He felt as if he were on the outskirts, always just out of orbit, trying desperately to communicate how much he was floundering; though he’d never say it with words. No. With Will everything was swimming behind his eyes and coursing through his body. It gave him away. These were his tells no matter how hard he tried to have a good poker face he could never _truly_ hide. As Will drifted deeper into his introspection he could hear the dissociated chatter around him. He couldn’t quite make out the words, they sounded so far away until they became louder and louder and took on the voice of Lucas.

“Guys! Did you see how Max was holding my hand last night? She was totally freaked out!” He bragged.

Will looked up and watched him intently, trying to force himself to grasp the other boys’ shared enthusiasm.

“Good call on a scary movie, right? I mean Steve told me it works every time!”

“ _I’m Dustin and I LOVE Steve Harrington. He’s the coolest! Don’t you guys LOVE Steve!”_ Lucas teased.

They all laughed, Dustin wiping a tear from his eye. Will just smiled and nodded, desperately hoping he could blend in. The comment sent a shudder up his spine. He knew Lucas was teasing Dustin, but part of him took it to heart. It felt personal, like the word _love_ and _boy_ were never meant to be in the same sentence. He was and always would be the butt of a joke. In every aspect of his life Will was a punchline in one way or another.

“Ha ha Lucas, very funny. But Steve’s advice got me a dance with Nancy!”

Mike looked over at Will and Lucas, rolling his eyes so hard they reminded Will of a pinball machine. Will couldn’t help but laugh, they all knew that Nancy only danced with Dustin out of pity, though they’d never tell him that.

“I just didn’t wanna watch the _Karate Kid_ again to be honest.” Lucas admitted.

“Yeah, but you sided with Max last night!” Mike griped

“Well, _Mike_ , she is my girlfriend. Do you really think I wanna get on Max’s bad side?”

“Of course not, but it’s not like she’d kill you for picking another movie… would she?” Dustin chimed in.

As the boys went on about Max and El, about last night and the past several months, the months where their focus had shifted from Star Wars and D&D to girls and dating, Will felt a sense of wistfulness bubble within him. He sat there in silence, nervously tapping his thumb on the table. He felt uncomfortable, almost as if they were speaking a language he didn’t understand. He glared at Mike who was seemingly impatient, but he couldn’t figure out why. He studied him carefully, trying to decipher what he was thinking about. He couldn’t quite tell what went on in Mike’s head anymore. Ever since the upside down, since El came into the picture, Will had a harder and harder time reading him. It pained him. He wanted so desperately for things to be how they once were, but Will knew there was no use in wishing. _Wish in one hand, shit in the other and see which fills up faster._ That’s what his dad always told him, what he always said after he called him a sissy behind closed doors. _I wish that kid wasn’t such a fucking sissy… what kind of boy doesn’t want to go hunting or play a good old fashion game of baseball. I’m telling you Joyce, your son’s a whiny little pussy. I can wish all I fucking want but you know what they say: Wish in one hand…_ Will swallowed hard, eyes fixed intently on the tapping of his thumb. _Stay present, Will._ He muttered to himself.

“Everything ok boys?” Mrs. Wheeler asked as she set platefuls of pancakes, eggs, and bacon before the boys.

Her eyes regarded Will, holding him in her gaze a little longer than the rest. A subtle concern peaking its way through. She smiled at him warmly. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, he had been momentarily rescued from his own thoughts.

“We are now!” Dustin piped up, excited to dig in.

Mrs. Wheeler patted Mike on the shoulder, before letting out a small laugh.

“Okay boys, I’ll be in the kitchen with Holly if you need anything.”

“Thanks mom.” Mike remembered his manners, replaying his dad’s rant from dinner.

The boys all thanked her before she disappeared behind the kitchen wall. As they readied themselves to eat, Mike looked noticeably eager. He was practically bursting at the seams to let out whatever it was. Will shot him a quizzical look followed by a confused _What_? from Dustin. Mike looked down at his plate for several moments, drizzling syrup onto _everything_ before he met them with a serious gaze. 

“Guys…” Mike paused. “I think I love her.”

The boys all looked at each other, a dose of skepticism shared between them. Lucas knew he _liked_ Max, but he didn’t think love was the right word or that he was even ready to say something so serious. Dustin let out a sort of nervous laugh. Mike was WAY too goofy to actually love someone. Besides, they were only fourteen. No matter how much he liked Suzie, he knew it wasn’t love. But Will knew Mike meant it, Will was absolutely certain. His words were sincere, as sincere as Will had heard him when they fought the mindflayer again. _I love her and I can’t lose her again_! He swallowed hard, looking toward his lap with wide eyes in an attempt to hide the expression on his face. He felt hot and clammy. His palms were sweaty and there was a tightness spreading inside his chest. He felt angry, betrayed even. Mike wasn’t _his_ anymore. It took everything he had within him to stop the tears. He squeezed his thigh, tightening his grip little by little until the pain plucked him back to the table. He stared intently at Mike, simultaneously hoping he wouldn’t notice how distressed he was and secretly wanting his reassurance.

“I know.” Will snapped.

The boys all looked at Will with puzzled faces. This was pretty much the first thing he’d said all morning and his tone didn’t carry its usual warmth. He sounded distant and cold even, not like the Will they knew at all. Their faces clung to bewilderment, sharing inquisitive glances as they watched Will push his food around. They sat in uncomfortable silence, trying to decide who would say the first word.

“Are you ok, Will?” It was Mike who made the first attempt.

Will looked up from his lap, a stunned look plastered across his face. He couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud. How could he be so careless.

“Will?”

It took him several moments, but eventually Will managed to gather his words.

“I- I’m fine. Sorry guys… I didn’t really sleep last night. I don’t really feel like myself.”

“Yeah, I remember you said you had a nightmare…” Mike trailed off.

Will could barely eat. The knots in his stomach turning more and more until he felt like he might tear in half. He stared blankly at his friends, trying not to show how distressed he was. He just sat there however, unable to say a word. Lucas, Mike, and Dustin all exchanged worried looks. They knew the events of the past few years had been hard on him. Will wasn’t the same anymore no matter how much they, and Will, wanted him to be. The room felt clumsy, too quiet and too tense. Mike put his hand over Will’s attempting to reach out to him, to let him know they were here for him. But Will jerked his hand away, pulling it close to his chest and cradling his wrist. He stared at Mike for a moment, a sort of scowl plastered on his face. It disturbed Mike a little bit. This wasn’t the Will any of them were used to, even after all the stuff they’d been through.

“Will?” He attempted again, but Will pushed away Mike’s outstretched hand. It was an anger none of them had really seen before. Will stood abruptly, he needed to get out of here, he needed to run away. He stared down at the barely eaten plate in front of him and frowned.  
“I’ll— I’ll see you guys later. I don’t feel great.”

“Oh, uh… Okay. Do you wanna call your mom? Or maybe Jonathan?” Mike asked.

“No, my bike’s outside.” He paused for a moment before curtly adding. “I’ll be fine.”

Will left the table, incapable of really saying anything else. He made his way to the basement to gather his things. He was grateful for the moment alone. He needed to breathe. He hastily brushed his teeth and stuffed his belongings into his hand-me-down backpack before making his way toward the basement door. As he twisted the knob to leave he felt a hand grip his shoulder, turning him around. His eyes met Mike. A worried, out of breath Mike. He stared into Will’s eyes, searching for a hint of what was troubling him, but Will kept pulling away.

“Let me go, Mike!” He protested. But Mike clung to his shoulder, hand cemented in place.

“No Will! Not until you tell me what’s going on!”

Will finally managed to wiggle his way free, turning back toward the door.

“Nothing’s going on Mike… I’m just tired, okay? I just wanna go home.”

“You’re _lying_ , Will! Friends don’t lie, remember?” He followed Will to his bike.

Will mounted his bike, jerking his head back to look at Mike. Before shouting:

“So what? So what if I am? Then what? What are you gonna do, Mike? I’m fine ok. I don’t wanna talk about it! Just leave me alone!” 

Mike stood there at a loss for words, eyebrows knit close. He watched Will with parted lips and sad eyes, unable to speak as the smaller boy flipped his kickstand up and peddled off into the hot July morning. Will was gone and there was nothing he could do. Mike was utterly dejected.

As Will rode further and further from the Wheeler’s he couldn’t help but shake uncontrollably. His hands grasped the handlebars tightly, his knuckled growing whiter and whiter. The closer he got to home the less he was able to stave off the tears. They began to cloud his vision, threatening a loss of control. As Will approached Mirkwood he couldn’t fight them anymore and they rolled down his cheeks like dam letting loose. His vision became more and more blurred until finally he lost control of his bike and skid off the road. He tumbled, sliding through gravel and dirt. He could feel tiny pebbles clinging to the fresh road rash forming on his hands and knees. He wasn’t okay. He felt like his heart might stop beating at any moment. He had crashed at the same spot where he first encountered the demogorgon two years ago. The world felt cruel. He managed to drag himself to his feet and assess his bike for damage. Shit. A flat tire. He hiccuped, snot and tears mingling as they made their way down his face. Blood dripped from his knees and threatened to trickle into his socks, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to go home. He walked the rest of the way, an uneasiness growing within him with the memories of his disappearance creeping back to haunt him. He was utterly miserable by the time he reached his front porch. He threw down his bike. He didn’t care at this point, he didn’t care if it was broken. Looking around Will noticed there were no cars in the drive way. No green pinto, now bucket of bolts. Just him and solitude. He opened the door, fumbling with the keys a bit before he made his way to his bed. Collapsing onto the mattress, he screamed into his pillow. He screamed until his throat was raw and sounds refused to come out. He was grateful to be alone. Will Byers, pathetic, worthless sissy. 


	3. Crosseyed and Painless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will’s anxieties surmount into a terrifying encounter that he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies! Thank you so much for all of your wonderful feedback, I’m so glad you like it. Once again this chapter features slurs and internalized homophobia. I’m issuing a content warning for slight gore and puking mention. Also this is my longest chapter yet :)
> 
> This chapter is titled after the Talking Heads song ‘Crosseyed and Painless.’
> 
> I'm still waiting...I'm still waiting...  
> The feeling returns  
> Whenever we close our eyes  
> Lifting my head  
> looking around inside  
> The island of doubt  
> It's like the taste of medicine  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________________

Will could barely keep his eyes open. The heaviness that settled on his eyelids threatened to drag them shut, yet Will tried to blink the sleep from his eyes. It was no use. He was utterly exhausted. He knew he should clean himself up, that he should shower and change out of his dirt coated clothes and wash away all evidence of his disastrous morning, but he just couldn’t bring himself to move. His limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds and even if he did try to get up he knew they would shake like jello beneath him. It was hopeless. He would just have to lie there in sweaty, gravel dusted, blood spotted clothes and hope that no one would come home and check on him before he woke up. Sleep was calling his name and he couldn’t resist much longer, he’d been awake for 24 hours after all. The longer he lay there the harder it became to think, to ruminate and worry. Every few minutes he could feel himself jerk slightly, drifting in and out of consciousness. He felt strangely at ease with the knowledge that sleep would pluck him, if only momentarily, from his agony. He dragged himself toward his pillow, laying face down, he splayed his limbs across the bed. He didn’t bother getting beneath the blankets, he felt too drained and gross to wrestle with his sheets. For now the sensation of just laying there was enough. He let sleep take him, finally accepting how fatigued he was. Emotional and physical pain have that sort of effect on the body. _Exhaustion_.

The sun was just beginning to set, it’s orange and pink glow blanketing the landscape in a pastel haze. It was breathtaking. Will couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful Hawkins looked in the summertime dusk. He took it all in from the crest of Weathertop, a 360 view of the rural town sprawling out into the distance. He smiled softly to himself, moments like these were rare and precious, moments where he could just enjoy simplicity. It made him happy. Here he felt content and calm. However, he couldn’t remember how he got here or when he arrived and it made him uneasy. Will felt a chill on the back of his neck, the hairs standing on end. He instinctively brushed his fingers along the prickled skin, but there was no sign of any danger. Everything seemed serene and quiet. Why was he worrying? The mindflayer was gone, El closed the gate… they fought him off again and everything was back to normal. As normal as it could be. Then why did he have this creeping feeling that something might be horribly wrong. As he contemplated his malaise he felt a hand clap him on the shoulder, fingers pressing gently into his skin. He let out a small gasp as he reached up to meet whoever, or _whatever_ , had him in their clutches. Will’s fingers grazed the hand resting on his shoulder, warmth radiating from their contact. The hand belonged to a person, but Will was afraid to turn around. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in his throat.

“Will?” A familiar voice rang in his ear.

He slowly turned his head, eyes locking with the figure behind him.

“Mike?”

The taller boy smiled down at him, he offered a calm reassuring expression. A wave of relief washed over Will, he was safe. Will stared into Mike’s deep, rich eyes, prolonging their contact for a moment too long. He could feel a toothy smile unfurling itself, a sincere and meaningful smile. He felt happy. In this moment it was just him and Mike. He relished in the rarity of their solitude. It hadn’t been just the two of them in a long time.  
“Where’s El? The rest of the party?” Will looked around, confusion and relief intermingling into a contorted expression.

“They just left.” Mike pointed to the small figures parading down the hill and disappearing into the distance. “It’s just you and me.” He grinned.

Will’s smile grew wider and his eyes lit up. He couldn’t help it, he felt so happy just to get a moment with Mike to himself. It’s not that he disliked his friends or that he was tired of them, no, he was just _overwhelmed_. Things had been so tense and difficult and exhausting that he wanted to escape, to escape with the one person he could always trust. Will cared about his friends; he loved Dustin and Lucas, he was growing to love Max, and he was trying desperately to understand why it was so difficult to push aside his contempt for El. He knew deep down that he didn’t hate _her_ , he definitely cared about and respected El, but hated her hold on Mike. Will couldn’t stand how she came between them, how Mike was wrapped around her finger. He didn’t want to feel this way. He wanted to love her just as much as the rest of the party, but whenever he saw the way she looked at him, whenever her hand slid into Mike’s, whenever he caught glimpses of them kissing; Will found himself in agony. He felt resentful and jealous. Something inside him wanted what they had. But Will knew he didn’t want El, not like that. He wanted something else, something he knew he couldn’t have and it made him hate himself. He couldn’t put it into words exactly… it was just _painful_. He couldn’t help but feel closest to Mike, they had known each other since kindergarten after all. They had been through so much together. Not that he hadn’t with Dustin and Lucas, but with Mike it was on a different level. He just understood him, understood how to make everything okay. It was almost as if he could look into Will’s soul and give him what no one else could; the feeling of being connected. Their friendship was on a deeper level, a level that the rest of the party just didn’t comprehend. It made him feel special. And Will never felt special.

Will’s eyes trailed after the waning figures of his friends as they faded into the shadow of dusk. He and Mike were the only two left. They stood there for a moment in awkward silence before Mike shifted his feet and dug the toe of his converse into the dirt. His face held a quizzical look, almost mischievous. Will regarded him warmly, just studying his features. Mike was all limbs. Knobby knees and long arms swaying as he toed the ground. He’d gotten quite tall in the last year, at least 5 inches taller than Will. He looked up at him, watching Mike as he contemplated something Will couldn’t quite figure out. Mike whipped his head toward him, his dark unruly curls bouncing off tempo. He had a goofy grin plastered across his face. Will couldn’t help but laugh. He found it strangely cute. He could feel the beginnings of blush creeping across his cheeks and he tried in vain to disguise his bashfulness. As he turned his eyes toward his feet he felt Mike’s hand grip his arm, jerking him away from his introspection.

“Come on!” Mike beamed as he tugged him in the direction of the massive radio in the center of the hill.

Will coyly nodded, he wasn’t sure what Mike was up to. He felt a sense of excitement brewing inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Mike halted abruptly in front of cerebro causing Will to collide into him. The boys tumbled forward, collapsing into a heap. They stared at each other for a moment, bewildered expressions on their faces before Mike burst into uncontrollable laughter. Will smiled wide, his cheeks beginning to hurt as he was roped in to Mike’s infectious laugh. The boys stared at each other, each of their giggle fits dying down as the sun set even lower. Mike crawled over the cerebro’s receiver and began to fiddle with the frequency. He was deliberate, intense even. Will eyed him suspiciously before Mike whipped around and blurted:

“Do you wanna try to reach Australia? It’s tomorrow over there you know!”

It was just like old times, before the upside down and the chaos that permeated from Hawkins lab. Will relished in it. He savored it. He nodded his head vigorously, happy to go along with anything his best friend suggested. Mike cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows at Will before he clicked the receiver and let an atrocious Australian accent escape.

“Gooday, this is Mike Wheeler and Will Byers from Hawkins Indiana, calling out to any Kangaroo riders, Over.”

The boys sputtered, giggling uncontrollably. Will couldn’t deny that Mike’s enthusiasm and horrific accent were amusing. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, from smiling at Mike. He hoped he didn’t look like an idiot. He felt as if this was exactly where he was meant to be. He didn’t mind if his jaw was sore and his cheeks were strained, he was happy for once. Happier than he’d remembered beingin the last two years.

He reached out his hand, gesturing for Mike to hand over the radio, Will felt the weight as the transfer occurred, Mike’s warm hand on top of his own. Will swallowed hard before raising cerebro’s receiver to his parted lips.

“He-Hello…” He stuttered. “This is Will Byers. Ignore the dork known as Michael, he’s known to be a huge dumb-ass. Over.” Will teased.

Mike gasped, gently pushing Will in as he pretended to be offended. The two just smiled at each other, enjoy the other’s company. They sat for several moments, listening to the static of the radio, but no one responded. Disheartened, Mike tried one more time, sans accent.

“What’s shakin’ Australia! This is Mike and Will from Hawkins… how about them platypuses? Platypi?” He leaned over to Will half whispering, half shouting.

“Those are from Australia, right?”

Will nodded and motioned back to cerebro. “You didn’t say over!” Will hissed.

“Oh yeah!” Mike returned to the transmission. “So the platypus… what’s with the laying eggs? Over.”

They stared into the settling darkness, the sky still a pale lavender. Mike pursed his lips, taking a deep inhale as the two of them waited. He looked dejected. It was clear at this point that no one was going to answer. Mike let out a long sigh.

“Well… that was a waste.” He pouted.

Will eyed Mike, he obviously felt letdown. He slid his hand toward him, patting him gently on the shoulder.

“It’s okay. We’ll get ‘em next time.” He offered a sympathetic smile. Will wasn’t always the best with words.

Mike looked up at him, returning the expression. He rolled onto his back and folded his arms behind his head. He breathed loudly, enough for Will to hear. He just watched Mike, watched as he gazed up at the sky. He was tempted to join him in the grass, but something inside him felt anxious, felt restless. He remained there for several moments in silence, not knowing quite what to say.

“Will?” Mike propped himself on his elbows slightly. “You okay?”

Will tried to look at Mike, but he just couldn’t, his eyes were glued to the ground. He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the emerging lump in his throat.

“Earth to Will.”

“Huh?” Will finally looked up. “Uh, yeah… I’m ok, just thinking.”

Mike blinked, holding Will in his concerned gaze. He patted the grass, motioning for his friend to join him.

“Come on, Will. The sky looks super cool. I promise it won’t disappoint… I heard on the news this morning there’s supposed to be a meteor or something.” He held out his hand, refusing to stand down.

“Why are you asking me…” Will trailed off.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Why is it just you and me, Mike? Isn’t this something you’d do with El? I’m pretty sure she’d wanna see this. You guys spend so much time together, I just thought it’d be a thing you’d do on like a date. _Spend some romantic time with my girlfriend_.” Will joked. Or at least he tried to.

Mike was surprisingly taken aback. Will didn’t really understand. He didn’t understand Mike’s reaction or why he was choosing to share this with _him_.

“I thought you _hated_ romance, William.” Mike quipped.

Will looked up, slightly bewildered. He smiled to himself.

“Yeah. So? You guys all have girlfriends and I’m the fifth wheel. It’s not fun anymore.”

He couldn’t hide the look of defeat that arose. Will was never very good at hiding his feelings. He took a deep breath and let out a long sigh before returning to meet Mike’s eyes. Mike chewed his lip, it was clear he felt bad.

“I—I’m sorry. I know I’ve been kind of an asshole.” He sighed. “I wanted to make it up to you. Just you and me, like old times.”

Will grinned, letting himself feel at ease. Mike _did_ understand, Will thought. _He wants to spend time with you, Will. Of course he wants to spend time with you. He’s your best friend._

“Thanks.” His smile plastered firmly in place.

Will accepted Mike’s offer and crawled his way over to lay next to him. As he lowered himself to the earth he could feel the grass tickle the backs of his legs, the softness of the ground beneath him. It was serene. There was a perfect stillness. It wasn’t the eerie, uncomfortable kind; it was the kind of stillness that occurs when the world feels right. And Will let himself sit in that. He laid flat on his back, feet crossed and hands at his sides fidgeting with blades of grass. The sky was growing darker, the pale lavender hue shifting into deep violet and blanketing the hill in soft shadows. The stars began to emerge, an effervescent glow twinkling in the seemingly endless sky. He almost felt as if he were floating, it was surreal. There he was at the crest of weathertop laying beside his best friend. This was everything he wanted.

He felt the sensation of grass moving beside him. It startled him for a moment before he realized it was only Mike. His hand had traveled down toward Will’s their fingers brushing against one another. Butterflies began stirring in the pit of his stomach, his heart racing faster as he felt Mike’s hand move closer. His face felt hot and his breath hitched inside his throat, but no sound came out. His head seemed to be spinning and at once the world spun and time paused. Will wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t _supposed_ to want Mike to hold his hand, to get closer to him, to hold him the way he held El. Everything Will felt was _wrong_. He tried to make the thoughts subside, but the more he tried the stronger they grew. He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to force himself to ignore his own mind when he felt a hand slip into his. It was Mike’s hand, spindly fingers curling around his and lacing together. Will’s eyes snapped open, he gasped. He could kick himself for gasping. He flicked his eyes toward their untwined fingers, feeling himself fill with trepidation and elation.

“Mike?” Will swallowed.

He turned to face Will, his gaze unflinching as he stared eyes. He smiled at him, squeezing Will’s hand tighter in his own.

“Yeah, Will?”

“N-nothing…” Will lied.

Mike slid closer to him, resting his head on the crown of his head. Heat radiated between their bodies as Mike settled in. Will was the opposite. His whole body tensing. He clenched his jaw. _It’s not like that Will. He doesn’t feel that way about you. Don’t act like a little faggot. Mike’s not like that. Mike’s not like YOU. You’re disgusting. Stop thinking about him like that. STUPID. STUPID. STUPID. Mike likes girls, he likes El. Stop being a fucking sissy!_ Mike squeezed his hand again, pulling him out of his self loathing for a moment.

“Will look!” Mike pointed with his free hand. “Isn’t it amazing? I think this might be one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.”

Streaks of light danced across the sky, almost like some sort of dragon. Will had never seen anything like it. It was truly beautiful. He was in absolute awe. This was a moment he’d never forget. He’d remember it for the rest of his life. It was incredible and mesmerizing and he got to spend this moment with Mike. He squeezed Mike’s hand back, returning the favor, even if for Will it had a _different_ meaning. A small _wow_ escaped him before he turned to face his best friend.

“Thanks, Mike. I’m really glad I shared this with you” He couldn’t hold back his grateful smile.

“Me too.” Mike smiled back, his eyes focusing intently on Will.

Mike leaned in close, mouth slightly open in preparation for a whisper. Will felt his stomach flip. _Not now. Not now! God damn it, Will. Just fucking stop._ Before he could have time to react Will felt Mike slide his hand behind his neck, pulling him in close. His body went limp, he couldn’t remember how to move and everything felt slow and heavy. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t grasp what was happening. Maybe he could… maybe he could, but it didn’t feel real. He was misinterpreting things, just like he always did. It was just a hug. _Calm down._ His mind was racing, a million things cycloning around in his head. He swallowed hard before it hit him. In one hand Mike held the back of his neck and the small of his back was cupped in the other. For a moment Will forgot how to breathe. He could feel Mike leaning in closer and closer, time slowing until it halted completely. Mike pressed his lips against Will’s, pulling him in close. Mike kissed him. Mike _KISSED_ him? Will pulled away; confusion, elation, fear, and anger fighting to claw their way out of him. This wasn’t happening. And if it was it was some cruel trick because Mike could never feel that way about him. He was disgusting, he was wrong, he was a dirty little queer who everyone hated. _He’s fucking with you, Will. He’s fucking with you and you’re falling right into his trap. He’s doing this to test you. He’s gonna tell everyone and then what? Who’s gonna want you then? You’re gonna get what’s coming to you, Will. You deserve whatever happens. FAGGOT._

Will swallowed hard, blinking forcefully. He tried to snap himself out of it, but he felt himself melting into Mike’s arms. He couldn’t control himself, despite everything he just lost the ability to exercise restraint. He ignored everything, everything he was telling himself and pulled Mike back in. He kissed him. He kissed him and didn’t want to let go, but when he opened his eyes Mike was gone. Everything was dark, darker than it was before. Everything was draped in dingy hues, gray and black and angry blues. The sky was starless. It wasn’t just starless it was void of anything earthly. He felt a chill rising on the back of his neck, he was cold, so incredibly cold. It was a hauntingly familiar sensation. Oh no. He couldn’t be. No. No way. There was no way he could be back in the upside down. He looked around, terror filling every inch of his body. Slimy film clung to his body as he lifted himself off the ground. He could feel the impending sense of dread growing closer and closer. From weathertop’s peak he scanned the horizon. There was nothing in every direction but darkness and dust and the distorted plane that wasn’t Hawkins. He scanned the hillside for any sign of a way out and then it hit him. _Mike_. He ran frantically down the slope, tripping over himself and falling down the hill. He felt himself skid, slicing his elbows and knees. Blood dripped from his chin as he weakly stood up.

“Mike!” His voice was hoarse and caught in his throat.

He ran toward the road, ran as fast as his wobbly legs would carry him. He felt sick to his stomach, the overwhelming sensation of nausea washing over him as he reached the dilapidated fence. He swung himself over the rotting wood and sprinted toward Hawkins.

“Mike! Mike!” He continued to scream, searching for any sign of his best friend. But there was no evidence, no trace.

Off in the distance Will could hear rustling in the trees. He swallowed hard, terror rising within him. A snarling sound grew closer and closer and then he heard it. A terrible blood curdling shriek. He spun around, filled with horror he could barely move. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take the first step. His legs trembled beneath him, threatening to give out at any moment.

“WILL! WILL!” Mike’s distorted voice called out.

Will felt a sheer sense of panic rise within him. He was too scared to find out what lie beyond the imposing pines. He stepped forward. Mike _needed_ him.

“WILL!” The voice grew closer.

As Will parted the branches and entered the forest he was met with a bone chilling, visceral display. Right before his eyes the demogorgon was ripping Mike limb from limb, screams still fighting to escape him. There was nothing Will could do, he couldn’t save him.

“ _MIKE! MIKE! NO!_ ” Will screamed over and over and over. His whole body shook. He was frozen in place. _Move. Move!_ He told himself. Tears welled up in his eyes and the floodgates let lose. His vision became clouded, he was so lightheaded and anguished. He could hardly breath. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. He kept mouthing the words; _Mike, Mike, Mike!_ Over and over until a scream finally escaped his lips. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A wet, viscous claw wrapped itself around him and pulled him into the void.

“MIKE!”

“Will? Will!”

A booming, worried voice plucked him from the darkness . The room seemed to be shifting in and out of focus, dim yellow light filling his vision. Will was drenched in sweat, his clothes clinging to his slight frame. He felt a calloused hand brush through his damp hair, attempting to soothe him. He blinked the room into focus, turning his head in search of the hand’s owner.

“Jonathan?” Will croaked.

“Hey, bud. It’s okay. I’m here.” He pulled Will into a tight hug, trying not to seem overly concerned. He knew how upset it made Will.

“I—I’m sorry.” Will blurted, not knowing what else to say.

Jonathan eyed him carefully, trying to hold back tears of his own. He couldn’t help but worry about his little brother.

“Why’re you always apologizing? What do you have to be sorry for?” He turned his head to look at Nancy, her face just as worried as his own.

Will looked up, eyes widening with the realization that he was no longer alone, that it wasn’t just Jonathan. Nancy heard. She _saw_. Will gulped down as hard as he could, trying to stop the tears that inevitably rolled down his cheeks. His eyes were rimmed red and despite falling asleep they remained fatigued. He leaned into Jonathan, he needed him right now.

“Will.. what happened?”

“I had a nightmare…” Will trailed off.

Jonathan sighed, looking back at Nancy for reassurance. She stepped toward the bed and knelt down at his side, patting Will’s thigh. She smiled at him, a feeble attempt to try and alleviate his pain.

“Will.” Jonathan paused. He pointed to the dried blood on Will’s knees. “What happened? I saw your bike.”

Will couldn’t look Jonathan in the eye. He had to lie, he had to lie about why, but not what. Will knew he was a horrible liar, but he could lie by omission. He lifted his head, looking out into the room as he drew his knees to his chest.

“I fell… I got distracted and I wasn’t looking and I fell.” His voice was laced with guilt.

“Bud, you’ve gotta be more careful, okay? We were really worried about you.”

We? Will panicked, his eyes meeting Jonathan’s. He couldn’t hide his anxiety.

“Is mom ho-“

“No, just me and Nance…”

The tears kept coming. Will couldn’t stifle the guilt. He hated how much worry he caused everyone. How he was such a burden.

“Jonathan, please. Please don’t tell mom.” He whispered.

Jonathan sighed. He brought his hand to his forehead, palming a fistful of hair before squeezing Will into a tight hug.

“I promise. I won’t say a word. But you gotta promise me that you’ll be more carful, huh? Let’s get you cleaned up. Don’t want mom finding out.” He offered Will an understanding smile and helped him off the bed.

Will nodded and made his way to the bathroom.

“Thanks, Jonathan.” He called as he shut the door.

He felt a sense of relief. It was only a dream. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t in the upside down, he didn’t lose Mike, and Jonathan and Nancy were still in the dark. He was safe, _for now._ Will made his way to the shower, turning on the faucet and peeling off his dirty clothes. He sat for a moment on the edge of the tub and cradled his head in his hands. Everything in his life seemed to be falling apart. He just wanted it to end. He was tired of being the butt of jokes, of everyone worrying about him, of hating himself. He didn’t want to think about anything right now, he just had to get through the rest of the day. He stepped into the shower, letting the hot water envelop him. It poured into his eyes and mouth and ran over the scrapes and cuts and bruises. It stung, but it was a good sting. It distracted him from all of the frantic thoughts racing inside his head. In the bathroom, under the shower head, no one would hear his sobs and so he let himself. He let himself cry and cry loudly. He was home, it didn’t matter. His tears mixed with the water and everything washed away. He needed this. He let himself stay in there a little longer than usual, he was too upset to worry about raising the water bill right now. He wrapped himself tightly in the fluffy towel, the one that he hides in the back of the cabinet and saves for when he doesn’t feel well. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the safety of the bathroom just yet and so he lingered a little while longer, his back against the door. He could hear Nancy and Jonathan’s voices carrying from the den. He tried not to listen, but he couldn’t help it.

“Nance, I’m worried about him. Did you see how he looked?”

“Jonathan…” Her voice trailed off.

“I just… I can’t stand seeing him like that. I feel helpless, like I can’t protect him, Nancy! I can’t always be there for him. I just want him to be ok.”

“I know. I can’t imagine how hard it is for you, for _him_. He looked so scared. Mike, Mike said that Will left from ours in a hurry this morning… like he was really upset. I overheard him talking to our mom. It sounded like Will had another nightmare last night. The boys were all really concerned. I know he says he’s fi—“

“He says he’s fine. But he’s not! And that scares me. It scares me so much. I try. I try to look out for him. I have been since dad left. Hell, since before that asshole left. I know he doesn’t want me to worry, for mom to fuss about him. I know that, but I can’t help it. He’s my little brother and I don’t know what I would do if anything else happened to him, Nance. He’s been through so much. He’s just a kid… a scared, confused kid and I can’t take that away. I can’t fix it. I’m his big brother… I’m supposed to protect him from that shit.”

Will could hear the hitch in Jonathan’s voice, the sadness. It made Will angry. Angry at himself. He felt so guilty. He couldn’t help but feel like this was all his fault, that he was the problem.

“I can’t shake the feeling that he’s hiding stuff from me…”

“Jonathan, all kids do that. Mike does it all the time. I’m sure Will doesn’t want to worry you guys.”

“That’s just the thing, Nancy. Will isn’t like other kids. Sure he has stuff in common with Mike, Lucas, and Dustin, but there’s something else. Something that isn’t the anxiety or the trauma. He’s always been different. He’s always been gentle and considerate and quiet. There’s something he’s not telling me and it hurts that he doesn’t feel like he can trust me. I want to be there for him, but it’s hard when he refuses to let people in. He’s strong, but nobody can hold heavy stuff in forever and I know that whatever it is it’s heavy… he’s been holding it in for a long time.” Jonathan paused.

“Before he went missing he used to come into my room and sit there, he was so _sad_. I would always try to ask him about it, but he’d never tell me exactly what was going on. He’d ask me why our dad didn’t love him, why he called him names and ignored him. It broke my heart, so I’d tell him that dad wasn’t worth it. He’d tell me kids made fun of him and beat him up, but he’d never tell me _why_. So I’d tell him it was ok to be different. He’s holding something back and I don’t wanna force him to tell me, but it’s gotta be killing him inside. I can see it in the way he looks. He seems miserable…”

Will swallowed hard, he couldn’t bare to hear how much pain he was causing Jonathan, how he was making him worry. Will knew he could tell Jonathan anything, but he _couldn’t_ tell him this. Will couldn’t risk losing the love of his brother. He was the only role model he’d had, the only one who made sure he knew he was loved despite what their dad said. He was desperate to keep that, to hold onto the relationship he had with him. Will was so afraid that Jonathan would hate him if he knew. _He’d tell mom to kick you out. He’d drop you off at the bus station and put you out. You’d have no one, Will, no where to go. You can’t hide forever. He’ll find out eventually, he’ll pull it out of you. He’ll make you confess and when he does it’s all over. You’ll be all alone. Poor Will, nobody gives a shit about a dead faggot._ He collapsed to the ground, tears and snot running down his face. He played Jonathan’s words in his head. _He’s hiding stuff from me. He’s holding something back… He seems miserable._ Will was miserable. Miserable and pathetic. He needed a release. He needed to get these thoughts out of his head. They were tearing him apart inside. A wave of nausea washed over him, he felt clammy and hot and his vision was obscured by white spots. He rushed to the toilet, his whole body jerking forward as he wretched up the little contents in his stomach. He dry heaved several times, but nothing came up. It just made him feel worse. He flushed the evidence, washed his mouth out in the sink and made his way back to his room. He didn’t say a word to his brother, creeping carefully down the hall and slipping behind his door. He locked himself in and sat at his desk with his head cradled in his hands. He needed to purge his disgust. He felt deficient and ashamed. He did the only thing he know how, he needed to draw.

Will ripped through his top drawer, desperately searching for his sketchbook. He pulled out the well worn journal and flipped open to a clean page. He dragged his pencil vigorously across the paper, pulling lines back and forth. One by one he filled several pages with dark, resentful drawings of himself with his face scribbled out, of shadowy looming figures, of his dream. The last page he drew was a sketch of him and Mike standing on the crest of weathertop, their backs facing him as they held hands beneath the meteor shower. He gritted his teeth, hot hateful tears rolling down his cheeks and off the tip of his nose. They dripped like raindrops onto the page, dotting the paper with watermarks. Will let out a scream. _FUCK_! He didn’t care if Jonathan or Nancy heard him, he would just lie again anyway. He tore out the page and stared at it for a moment before ripping it to shreds and throwing it into the trash. That’s all he was. _Trash_.


	4. Smalltown Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is just trying to enjoy his summer and be a normal teenager, but his growing self doubt keeps getting in the way. He doesn’t want to be different, he doesn’t want to feel isolated and alone, but his own fears won’t let up and now he has another demon to face. Only this time it’s right here and has been for a long time. He can’t hide from this monster, no matter how hard he’s tried, it’s lived in Hawkins long before the upside down came into play and it’s name starts with a T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho boy this is a long one! There are some major content warnings for this chapter. Graphic, violent, homophobic actions take place and there is some suicidal ideation mentioned. HIV/AIDS is also mentioned. I’m so sorry I’m being so cruel to Will, I feel so bad! I promise it won’t stay this way! I hope I didn’t get too nerdy with my references. I’m a huge fantasy geek and play a lot of d&d so I stuck some of that in there.
> 
> The song for this chapter is ‘Smalltown Boy” by Bronski Beat and the original video from 1984 was controversial and revolutionary! It featured same sex attraction and negative portrayals of homophobia which were based off the openly gay band’s own experiences. This song is sort of a gay anthem and this chapter will follow some themes/ scenes from the music video. I won’t give to much away, but you guys should definitely watch it! 
> 
> Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away  
> Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy  
> You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down  
> And as hard as they would try they'd hurt to make you cry  
> But you never cried to them, just to your soul  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been three days since Will saw the party. Three days since he last talked to, _fought with_ , Mike. Three days since he’d left the house. He’d turned off his super com, desperately needing to disconnect from the world. Every time the phone rang a chill went up his spine, he couldn’t help but shudder. He didn’t want to talk to or see anyone, not even his mom or Jonathan. He had been hold up in his room for the past 72 hours, forcing himself to plunge into the depths of a well worn copy of Ursula Le Guin’s _A Wizard of Earthsea_. Will wanted to escape, to go somewhere far away where he didn’t have to focus on growing up, where his mind didn’t wander into darkness. He needed to journey to the islands of Gont, Roke, and Iffish if only for a little while, tracing the journey of the wizard Sparrowhawk. He relished in fantasy. For Will mystical tales and far off lands had always been a refuge, one he thought he shared with his friends. Dungeons and Dragons had been their longtime sanctuary—but now it seemed he was the only one left who wanted to defend the realms of Blackmoor and Mystara from zombie hoards, demogorgons, and Eldritch horrors. He couldn’t help but feel left behind, as if his party had forsaken him to rot in a dungeon in the depths of the underdark. It was a parallel, a metaphor so to speak, of his time spent in the upside down and the prolonged suffering he felt in his own mind. All weekend he had tried to shake his crippling anxieties and self loathing and so he shut out the world. He knew he couldn’t keep them at bay forever and it filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread. He didn’t want to dwell on how conflicted he felt, on the fight he had with Mike, on the _fights_ — plural. Will felt as if he were sinking into himself , his body slipping further and further down his headboard until he felt as though he might disappear into his mattress. Part of him wanted to disappear. _It’d be better that way_.

Will couldn’t help but dwell on his nightmares, dwell on the hurt and pain he felt from all the snide remarks and jokes everyone made, even his friends. He was swept up in the all encompassing fear of being discovered and abandoned for _real_. He swallowed hard, trying in vain to stamp out the nagging feeling that everyone secretly hated him. Will felt pathetic and vulnerable, like he might snap at any moment, lashing out at the people he loved most. Just like how he lashed out at Mike. He desperately wished he could take back the bitting words he’d let loose. He knew it came from a place of deep seeded anger and said in the heat of the moment. It didn’t make it any less wrong, any less vindictive. He thought of the last thing Mike said to him Saturday morning: _You’re lying, Will! Friends don’t lie, remember?_ He felt incredibly guilty. Will was ashamed to admit that he meant to hurt Mike, that he wanted it to sting, especially after _that_ comment. _It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!_ He frowned, his eyebrows drawing closer together. _It’s not my fault you don’t like girls. You don’t like girls_ … He replayed the words over and over, hot tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. Mike _knew_. Will was convinced, he was convinced that he was taunting him, that Mike was trying to draw out his deepest, darkest secret and use it against him. _It IS your fault asshole. You’re the reason. It’s you Mike… I feel like I can’t breathe every time I’m around you. I want you, Mike. I want you to look at me the way you look at her… the way you look at El. It’s you, it’s always been you. Because I love YOU and I can’t lose you again. I don’t want to lose you Mike, not ever._ Will scrunched his fists, digging his nails deep into his palms. He bit his cheeks until the pain was too much and his lips quivered. Why was he so pathetic? Why was he so broken and disgusting and wrong. Why couldn’t god, why couldn’t _somebody_ , fix him.

He took a deep breath, his chest gently rising and falling. He knew he couldn’t stay in his room forever. His mom would force him to leave eventually. He wondered how much longer he could get away with hiding. He’d have to venture out sooner or later. It wasn’t healthy for him to withdraw this much, he knew it went against everything Dr. Owens, his mom, Jonathan, and Hopper all reiterated. _You need people, Will._ And he did need people. Despite feeling immensely hurt, despite the sense of betrayal, he seriously longed for the comfort of his friends. For the reassurance of Mike. Will sighed, he wanted to laugh at Dustin’s _Star Wars_ impressions— especially Chewbacca, to watch Lucas dance to _I’m Still Standing_ like no one was watching, to try and let Max teach him to skateboard and fail miserably at it, to show El new music and argue when she favored radio edits. To maybe, just maybe watch a meteor shower on Weathertop with Mike. He felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He clenched his fist tightly, softly pounding them into his mattress. _That’s never gonna happen. It was just a dream, Will and it wasn’t a very good one, remember?_ He let out a forceful exhale before clapping his hands over his eyes and dragging them down his face. He knew he’d been in his room too long. He needed his friends, despite every contrary conclusion that tried to burrow it’s way out.

“Will?” Joyce’s worried voice was soft behind the door.

Will relaxed his body, shifting his weight he flung himself off the bed. He stood before the door, hand hovering over the handle as he paused for a moment, caught between anxiety and relief. Will, regardless of what he’d told himself earlier, needed his mom. He needed to be validated and listened to, but not too much… he didn’t want to be too exposed or _that_ honest. He’d have to keep his emotional distance, letting his mom in just enough to quell her own anxieties. He frowned slightly before grasping the brass handle, slowly pulling the door open enough for Joyce to step in.

“Hey honey, can I come in?” She smiled down at him. It was a warm, understanding smile. The same one she gave him whenever he was sick or upset or lonely.

He nodded, silently walking toward the edge of his disheveled, tiny bed. He sat down, looking at Joyce with tired, melancholic eyes. They swam with so much emotion despite his attempts to act fine, it was obvious to his mom that he was absolutely not. She made her way to sit beside him, putting her arm around him and pulling him into a prolonged tight hug. Will didn’t want her to let go and he sensed that maybe she didn’t either. She squeezed him just a little bit harder and kissed the top of his head. He unclenched his jaw, finally feeling the tension begin to subside. As Joyce pulled away she gently patted him on the back, regarding him with a concerned pout.

“Are you okay, sweetie? You’ve been cooped up in your room for a while now. I think maybe it’s time you go outside, get some fresh air.”

“Yeah, I’m ok. I wasn’t feeling good. I’m sorry if I worried you.” He lied, reaching for his usual excuse.

“Mrs. Wheeler called Sunday and told me. Mike mentioned you didn’t feel so hot and wanted to know if you were doing okay. I didn’t wanna bother you too much… I know you need some space. I know, I know. _Overbearing mom_.” She chuckled.

Will swallowed. _Mike was worried about him?_ He darted his eyes toward his feet, nervously bouncing his leg. Joyce’s expression shifted, slowly changing into a frown. She knew something was wrong, that her boy wasn’t being completely honest with her. She studied his face. His despondent eyes weren’t her only concern. She couldn’t help but notice the lingering hints of his scabbed lip, the scrape on his chin, and as her eyes traveled down, the cuts and bruises on his knees. She desperately wanted him to tell her, to open up and trust that she wouldn’t judge him or be mad. Joyce only wanted to protect her vulnerable, sensitive son.

“I saw your bike, Will…” She paused, her tone lowering. “And your clothes. I got the stains out best I could, but the socks were a lost cause.” She smiled, trying to show him she wasn’t angry.

“I just wanna know what happened, sweetie. I’m not mad at you, I’m just concerned… you haven’t been yourself lately.”

Will met her gaze, trying not to show just how fragile he felt. He didn’t want her to worry. He didn’t want her to fawn over him. He needed to appease her.

“I— I thought I was gonna puke and I tried to stop the bike, but I couldn’t… I hit a rock and fell. I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Will…” she sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you. You don’t need to apologize all the time. It wasn’t on purpose, it wasn’t your fault.” She rubbed small circles into his back.

“I’m so—” He stopped, catching himself. “I know, mom. I’ll try to remember next time.” He smiled.

Joyce brought him close to her chest, once more she kissed him on the forehead. She gazed at him for a moment before telling him the good news.

“Jonathan fixed your bike. It’s out on the porch and ready to go.”

Will beamed. He was grateful, grateful for Jonathan. He was always looking out for him. _Always_. He couldn’t ask for a better brother. Will smirked, his appreciation evident in his expression. Joyce smiled fondly, proud that her boys took care of each other, proud of how Jonathan had stepped up to the plate after Lonnie left. She wished he never had to. It pained her that her sons had to grow up too fast, that her oldest was busy being the parent her ex-husband couldn’t. She sighed, trying her best to keep her composure, she had one more bit of news for Will.

“Dustin called. The boys are all asking for you. They’re gonna be at the pool this afternoon. I think you should go, Will. You’ve been in this room for 3 days! Getting out might do you some good. Your friends miss you you know.” She quirked her eyebrow hoping Will would take the bait and do something kind for himself.

Will pursed his lips, pausing for a moment to contemplate the offer. He knew he _should_ go, that he should try to enjoy his summer. He turned to his mom and nodded.

“Yeah, okay.” He got up and hugged Joyce tight. Reassuring her that he was fine.

“Alright, honey. Let me know when you’re leaving. And don’t stay out too late!”

He chuckled softly. “I know, mom!”

Will gathered his things, shoving them into his backpack before making his way to the porch.

“Bye, mom! See you later!” He called before shutting the front door.

He hopped on his bike and made his way down the driveway and onto Mirkwood before pausing with crippling anxiety where the roads met. He swallowed hard, trying to suppress his nerves. Even after all this time the path made him shudder. He tried so hard to get over it, but the memories always lurked in the back of his mind, threatening to break free. He willed himself forward, he needed to escape. _Think of it like a dungeon, Will. You just need to find your way out and you’re home free. On to liberation. On to friends._ He pushed his feet off the ground and pedaled forward, drawing himself out of his mental prison. As he made his way closer to the Hawkins pool he felt dread bubbling up within him. _What if they’re mad at me? What if they’re still mad at me?_ He shook his head, trying to dispel his disquieting thoughts. _Get it together, Byers. They asked for you. Dustin called you, Mike called you. They want to hang out with you._ He let out a prolonged sigh before stopping his bike in front of the town pool, skidding to a gentle stop. He looked through the gaps in the chain link as he parked his bike in the rack. Just beyond the fence were Dustin, Max, Lucas, El, and Mike. They were sitting toward the locker rooms waiting. Waiting for him. Will took a lengthy, deep inhale before stepping through the gate and making his way toward the party. He missed them. He definitely missed them.

Will drew closer to the blue walls of the locker rooms, eyeing his friends carefully. He studied them, observing their interactions, their laughter, their gestures, their bodies. He felt almost out of place. He was scrawnier than all of them, shorter, and baby faced. He disliked the way he looked in his bathing suit. He felt exposed and defenseless, skinny legs and pale torso in stark contrast to his tricolor indigo, turquoise, and yellow shorts. He felt like he looked utterly dorky. His friends on the other hand looked primed for summer. Lucas’s black adidas slides and Hawaiian print shorts suited him, Dustin still had his signature hat on accompanied by a jaws shirt and purple and blue trunks. Max, with her freckled shoulders and legs peaking through, wore a neon pink and black one piece. It was the kind Will had imagined surfers would wear while El sat on a bench with her hair pulled back into a half pony tail in a yellow and black suit. Will knew he should find them pretty. He knew boys his age were supposed to feel _something_ when they saw a girl in a swimsuit. He’d heard Steve appraise bikini clad girls plenty of times, saw models on the cover of _Sports Illustrated_ that boys snuck peeks at when their parents weren’t looking. But he felt absolutely nothing. Sure, their bathing suits looked nice, they had pretty patterns and bold colors, but Will didn’t— couldn’t find them attractive no matter how hard he tried. His eyes slowly drifted toward Mike. Lanky and tall, he stood in the corner, partially obscured by the shade. Will couldn’t help but stare. He tried not to look at him in his short green trunks, tried not to gaze at his best friend like that… he found him attractive and it disgusted him.

He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the repeated flipping of his stomach. Will made his way over to the party, shyly waving at his friends. Max was the first to notice him, sliding her hand out of Lucas’s grasp. she called him over.

“Will!” She waved, her arm raised high in the air.

Will gave a bashful smile, happy to see his friends after his self imposed absence. He walked cautiously past the life guard’s chair. Billy was on duty. He made Will uneasy, like he always had to be _careful_. He softened his step, straightening his back as he slid by Max’s older brother. Billy, like a shark, could definitely smell fear and Will was easy prey.

By the time he had reached his friends Will had almost swallowed his anxiety, _almost_. He stood awkwardly for a moment before joining them on the bench and slipping into conversation. He looked around, Max and Lucas had some sort of banter going. They were arguing about which better; Wonder Woman or Green lantern

“Green lantern is obviously better! You have the corps, the guardians, Hal Jordan and John Stewart! They can control shit with their minds like El. Totally awesome. What does Wonder Woman have? A Lasso… that makes people tell the truth? Lame.” Lucas chided.

Max rolled her eyes, she knew she was right, Wonder Woman was way cooler than some ring wielding guys in tights. Diana Prince could kick anyone’s ass, even Superman. Hell, she had her own tv show. Hal Jordan and John Stewart sure didn’t. _Even Batman acknowledged her strength_ …but she and Lucas were always disagreeing on _something_. Dustin interjected with his opinion, surprisingly abandoning Lucas and siding with Max while El and Mike ignored them and drew their attention toward Will. He smiled, everything was normal, everything was how it should be. Mike slid closer to him, reaching out his hand to greet him. They slapped their palms together in a sort of handshake before Mike rose to his feet with a budding look of concern. He turned briefly to look back at El. Her eyes sharing the same worried expression as she studied him up and down. She rose to stand next to Mike, resting her chin on his shoulder. El placed her hand on Will’s jaw, examining the scraped skin.

“You’re hurt… is it bad?” She frowned as her eyes moved toward his knees.

Will instinctively stepped backwards, gaze darting toward the ground. He couldn’t look either of them in the eye. Deep inside he was afraid that if El could move things with just a thought that maybe she could read his mind. He chewed his lip slightly before trying to speak, but he was interrupted by Mike. _Thank god._

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want.” He smiled.

It put Will at ease. He was grateful not to have to rehash his lies. Mike shifted awkwardly before sliding his shoulder out from under El’s chin. He clapped Will on the shoulder and smiled brightly.

“Wanna put your stuff in a locker? You can share with me and El if you want?” He offered.

“Yeah, sure.” Will nodded, following him into the locker room.

The walls seemed even more blue on the inside, colder and less friendly. He swallowed hard as Mike led him to the shared cubby. It was too contained and claustrophobic. Will quickly shoved his bag into the locker, shutting it a little too forcefully before rushing out of the imposing space. Mike lagged behind him confused, refusing to question it. As they made their way back out to the sunlit concrete, Will watched El with cautious eyes. She was drawn in on herself, awkward and nervous. She wasn’t quite used to large crowds and open spaces just yet. She clung to a slowly melting popsicle, sticky red juice dripping onto her hand. She looked lost and out of place, even more so than usual. Will knew how she felt. He _understood_. He resolved himself to trying to making an effort to stifle his jealousy. He knew he should try, knew that they’d probably end up as step siblings with the way his mom and Hopper’s relationship was going. He rolled his shoulders. Being resentful wasn’t an option. He liked her, he _needed_ to like her. It’s not okay to be head over heels with your potential sister’s boyfriend. It’s all kinds of wrong and he’d be a horrible person for getting between them. He’d be a pitiful, reprehensible degenerate. He was sick, twisted. Everything about him was wrong. Liking Mike was _not_ an option. Will smiled at El as he sat beside her. She was sandwiched between him and Mike, finally relaxing. Mike slid his hand into El’s, leaning his head softly on top of hers. Will could see the blush creeping across both of their cheeks, slight dimples deepening around her mouth. He felt himself staring a little too long, a twinge spiking in the pit of his stomach. He needed to, had to, look away. _So much for not being jealous._

“Are we just gonna sit here all day or are we actually going swimming? I didn’t skip out on radioing Suzie just for you guys to fuck around. I thought we were actually gonna _do_ something?” Dustin griped _._

Lucas sighed, turning to face him with an annoyed stare. “Yes, _Dustin_. We’re gonna swim. Will only just got here. Chill out, dude!”

The rest of the party collectively groaned, it was too hot to fight and they’d been waiting a while for Will, but no one would tell him that. They knew he’d been testy lately. Mike stood up, eyes scanning the perimeter for the perfect spot to dump their towels and shoes. _There!_ He shoved himself off the bench, yanking El with him, her eyes widening with the sudden jerk. They all rushed over to an empty umbrellaed table and began to eagerly discard their stuff. Will stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands as he watched Lucas and Dustin take off for the pool with Max. _Just like old times._ He smiled. Just as he was about to follow them he felt a tap on his shoulder. He glanced back, catching Mike in his periphery. He was smiling, El’s hand still held firmly in his.

“We missed you, Will. You know it’s not the same without you around. You’re like… our glue or something.” He shrugged.

Will flashed him a toothy grin. _Mike missed him._

“I missed you guys, too. I— I’m sorry about Saturday…” Will trailed off, not quite knowing what to say.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m over it, I mean there was never really anything to get over. I guess we were just worried, you know? Besides, you weren’t even that much of an asshole.” Mike joked, punching Will’s arm.

Will laughed, half a smirk still in place. He nodded as Mike gave him a gentle pat on the back.

“Come on, it’s too fucking hot out and I’m pretty sure you’ll start to melt if you don’t get in the pool. Right, El?”

She giggled. She always giggled when Mike goofed around. Will did too, he couldn’t help it. Mike was just so likable, funny, and kind.

The trio made their way to the pool, sauntering at an annoyingly slow pace. Mike was _trying_ to piss off Dustin. He was a little shit stirrer and he knew it. When they finally reached the the water, El sat tentatively at the edge. Water still made her nervous. She was trying to be a normal teenage girl, but she couldn’t help associating water and pools with Hawkins lab and Papa. She swallowed hard as she observed the rest of the party, desperately wanting to join in the fun yet afraid to tread there. She sighed, alerting Will to her distress. He sat gently beside her. _Be a good friend Will. You know how she feels, you understand. Forget about Mike for a minute and let El know she’s doesn’t have to feel so alone._ He swallowed his hesitation and sat beside her, letting his skinny legs sway under the water. He put his hand over her’s and smiled at her warmly. He wanted to make her comfortable, he wanted them to both feel comfortable. She shot him a quizzical look before her face softened. She nudged his leg with her own, a subtle way of thanking him for showing her some solidarity. The two of them were preoccupied in an empathetic moment, memories and feelings only they could understand. For a moment it was just him and El. Just the two of them recognizing the other’s trauma and letting the other know it would be ok. Despite what he told himself, Will needed this. Mike was right. _El would understand. She always understood._ Just as the two of them parted hands, Will felt himself being dragged into the pool. Warm, wet hands wrapped around his arms and pulled him down under. For a moment he felt afraid, anxiety filling him like the water that threatened to flood his lungs if he opened his mouth. He floated there for a moment, just beneath the surface until his toes pushed him up from the bottom. His head broke through the choppy water sloshing around the sea of bodies. He could feel chlorinated droplets cascading over his nose and mouth. They dripped down from his drenched hair, shrouding his eyes.

“Mike!” El scolded.

Will could hear the distinct sound of Mike’s laughter. He smiled to himself before swiping his water logged hair away from his face. He punched Mike’s arm, letting out a laugh of his own. He needed this. He needed to have fun.

“Sorry! I said I was sorry!” Mike yelped as El splashed him with water.

Without warning a looming shadow approached the party. An imposing figure lit from behind stood over them, a shrill whistle screeching through the air.

“No dunking, Wheeler!”

It was Billy. Will could feel the muscles in his jaw tightening. He was tense and afraid. He looked around at the rest of the party. They were just as somber and timid. Will looked up at Max’s step brother, he got the overwhelming sense that he was looking for any excuse to terrorize them, that he’d pounce on them at any moment. While he was stuck in his thoughts Max made her way to the edge of the pool, staring down her brother. She didn’t seem to be so afraid of him anymore.

“Fuck off, Billy. We were just messing around. Don’t you have some cows to flirt with?” She used his own words against him, smirking indignantly.

“Whatever fuck wads, just don’t let me catch you again, Wheeler, or little _Maxine_ here won’t be hanging around so much anymore, got it?”

They all nodded, save for Max who defiantly held Billy in her sights. She was brave. Will was jealous of how bold she was. He could never be that confident. He swallowed hard as he watched Billy retreat to the lifeguard’s chair, his eyes unflinching, _locked on him_.

“Geez, he’s such a wastoid!” Max muttered.

Everyone collectively agreed. Billy was indeed a wastoid. But that didn’t make Will any less afraid of him.

As the day dragged on Will couldn’t help feeling invisible. Sure they tried to include him, but everyone was coupled up or engrossed in conversations he didn’t know how to be a part of. He tried to take his mind off of how isolated he felt, how empty. Will studied the landscape of Hawkins pool; the people lounging around, kids splashing in the shallow end, the girls reapplying suntan lotion— girls he _should_ find attractive. He frowned, trying not to dwell on how _grotesque_ he felt. He turned to gaze at Mike and El. He watched intently as they shared a coke, laughing at something he couldn’t quite make out. His stomach sank. Watching them was like a punch in the gut. He wanted to yank them apart, to stop them from kissing. He wanted to be the one sitting with Mike, the one sharing pop with him, the one who would kiss him. Will audibly groaned, he didn’t mean to… it just _escaped_. He swallowed hard, hoping no one was paying attention. He averted his eyes trying to focus on something else. _Anything else._ He found himself scanning the entrance to the locker room. A group of older boys stood near the the fence smoking cigarettes. They had to have been at least seniors at Hawkins high, they were nowhere near as awkward looking as Will and his friends. He studied them carefully, their laughs echoing out and settling in his ears. He took a big gulp of air, he felt his heart racing as his palms began to sweat. In the corner, closest to the wall, Will noticed him. A slightly shorter boy with dark eyes and feathered hair. His arms were crossed, partially obscuring his chest. He appraised him slowly. He reminded Will of Ian from _Weird Science_ … Robert Downey Jr. He was really… _handsome_. Will shook his head, he could feel the blush starting to creep across his cheeks. He tried desperately to suppress it, gripping the pool ladder as he climbed out. He needed to get a hold of himself. _Stop it, Will! Stop! What the fuck are you doing? Do you want everyone to know you’re a faggot?_ He let out a breathy sigh, continuing to steal glances as he made his way back to the party’s table. As he sat down a jolt of anxiety ran right through him. Ian’s lookalike was staring right at him. He’d noticed him. He’d noticed Will watching him. _Shit. Shit._ Will panicked, he tried to look away but he couldn’t. The older boy flicked his cigarette and whispered something to his friend as smirk formed across his lips, never taking his eye off Will. Will felt his body tense up, he couldn’t breathe. He felt incredibly hot, all the color draining draining from his face. He hoped to god nobody else was watching him. _Please, please, please._ He swallowed, a chill running up his spine. Sitting on the bench in the shadow of the seniors was _Troy_. Will’s eyes grew wide with terror. _Fuck_.

He looked around him, searching for signs of his friends. He needed to get out of there. He needed to run far away. Will caught Mike in his sights and lunged his way out of the chair, pushing through the crowd to reach him.

“Mike! Mike! What time is it?” Will was short of breath and shaken. He needed an excuse to escape.

Mike looked at him, with a puzzled look on his face he eyed his watch.

“4:30? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah… I— I just… I have to be home soon. I promised my mom I’d be back for dinner. She has a shift at 6, so…” He trailed off. “Can I have the key to the locker? I need to get my stuff.”

“Uh, sure.” Mike’s bewildered stare pasted firmly in place, he tossed Will the key.

Will thanked him before hurrying off to the lockers. With panicked steps and shallow breaths he made his way into the empty, dark room. He could hear the echo of footsteps as he approached the cubby. They didn’t belong to him. His breathing hitched. Will was fumbling with the lock, unable to open it fast enough when he felt a pair of hands shove him forward into the metal door. His face smacked into the locker, the sound reverberating as a welt began to settle.

“Hey, Byers!” A deep, booming voice called out.

Will was frozen in place, hands hanging limply at his sides. He began to hyperventilate, too afraid to turn around.

“Hey _FAGGOT_! I’m talking to you.” He whipped will around, forcing him to face him. It was the boy from before, the one he was staring at.

Will’s eyes filled with horror as he saw the gang of boys gathered around him. Their tall, imposing bodies trapped him in the corner. He had no where to run. He looked to his left, his body trembling as he locked eyes with Troy.

“We saw you. We saw you making eyes at Mark, Byers. Fucking fairy freak!” Troy spit on him, his saliva hitting Will in the eye.

Will began to shake, sobbing uncontrollably. He wanted to scream, to call for help and run far away, but he was trapped like an defenseless animal by a pack of hungry wolves.

“I— I.” He stuttered.

“I— I. I don’t fucking care.” Mark mocked him, whimpering in a whiny tone before punching Will in the stomach.

He felt himself gasping for air, all of the oxygen left his lungs. He collapsed to the ground, staring up in horror as they pushed in closer and closer. Will squeezed his eyes shut, he was absolutely paralyzed. He could feel himself being dragged across the floor by his hair, his back skidding through puddles while something akin to road rash spread across his skin. He let out a small yelp, unable to hold back his tears. Lifted by his shoulders, his body rose off the ground. The hands gripped around him squeezed him so hard he knew there’d be dark ugly bruises later. Before Will could grasp what what’s happening he felt himself hit the wall behind him, cold cinderblocks scraping against his back. He let out a painful cough.

“Do it, Mark!” Troy screamed. “Fucking do it!”

Mark needed no goading. He laid into Will, punching him over and over again while the others watched on laughing. _They were laughing at him._ Will desperately whispered; _please, please stop. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t—_ But it was no use, they wouldn’t let up. He was caught in a frenzy of blows, they were beating the shit out of him and there were no signs of stopping. Kick after kick they mocked him asking if he liked it up the ass, called him a cocksucker, a fairy, a sissy, a queer. His heart was racing, he could hardly breathe as he felt the contents of his stomach creeping back up. He couldn’t hold it back any longer, throwing up all over himself, the floor, and Troy’s feet. The anger in the room spiked. Troy grabbed Will by the back of his head and slammed it hard into the ground, into his own vomit.

“Eat shit, faggot!” He kicked him one last time before taking a step back, admiring his work.

Will shook uncontrollably, he was so afraid. He was absolutely petrified. _You’re gonna die Byers, it’s all over for you. You disgusting little queer. Poor Will, no one’s even gonna miss you._ He let out a visceral, gut wrenching scream before propping himself on his hands and knees. He tilted his head to look at his tormentors, eyes begging them to stop. He was covered in a mixture of snot, tears, vomit, and blood. _Blood_.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! He’s fucking bleeding, Troy! He’s fucking bleeding, dude!”

“Fuck, man! I don’t wanna catch AIDS!”

Will froze. _AIDS_. He was an abomination. He deserved to be treated like dirt. He tried to crawl away, tried to make it back to his friends, but his limbs felt limp beneath him. It was hopeless, he was at the mercy of these hateful shit-holes. He felt a hand grab his arm, dragging him backwards toward the sauna. It was Mark. The boy he’d thought was handsome earlier was now a monster. Will panicked, trying to squirm away, but he was too weak to fight back. He screamed as Troy opened the door, as Mark shoved him inside. The door slammed shut and Will was helpless on the floor. _No one can hear you, Will. No one will hear you scream._ He dragged himself to his feet, knees wobbling beneath him as he watched Mark stick a broomstick through the door handle and turn the temperature hotter. He stared out with wide, panicked eyes, banging on the glass as they walked away laughing.

“Let me out! Let me out! Please! Somebody help me! Mike! _Mike_!” He shrieked, but his voice was muffled by the door.

It became more and more difficult to breathe, the hot steam of the sauna weighed down on him like a heavy blanket, clinging to every inch of his body. He slumped, pressing his face into the small window. He sobbed, he sobbed until he was certain no more tears would come out. As he began himself to resign to giving up, Will saw pale palm smack the glass through his waterlogged lashes. It startled him. _They’re back. Please don’t let them be back._ The sound of the wooden broom clanged to the floor and the door opened slowly. He felt himself falling forward, unable to control his limbs. He landed in a heap into soft, bony arms. He tried to make out who had caught him, but his vision was blurry from crying and the beginnings of a black eye.

“Will! Will!” It was Mike. He was cradled in his arms as he faded in and out of consciousness.

Will looked around him, his friends were all crouched down to see if he was ok. Lucas, Dustin, Max, and El. They had all come to his rescue, he was safe. He was finally safe. He buried his head into Mike sobbing and hiccuping, unable to compose himself. Mike looked at El, tears of his own threatening to break free. Her face was twisted into an angry frown. She was enraged, her firsts clenching tightly as she knelt beside him.

“Who. Who did it?!” She demanded, but Will could barely speak. His throat was sore and raw.

“Ask him later, yeah?” Max suggested, resting her hand on El’s shoulder.

El nodded, turning to face the rest of the party. Will let himself relax his body, almost melting into Mike as he watched a new figure enter the room.

“The chief’s on his way. I can’t believe this shit.” He heard him spit. “I’m sorry, Byers. I’m really sorry.” It was Billy. _It was Billy?_

“Don’t worry, Will.” Dustin chimed in. “Your mom and Hopper are almost here.

“You’re gonna be ok. We’ve got you, Will, I’ve got you.” Mike‘s voice, his worried face, was the last thing he remembered before he finally lost consciousness.


	5. What Difference does it make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though he feels terrified and insignificant, Will isn’t as alone as he thinks he is. Will’s harrowing ordeal lands him in the hospital and right into the care of those who know him best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another long one. I’m sorry this took a while. I had a bad pain week between my EDS and a fibro flare up and took a few days off to rest up. I was too exhausted to write, and then I got tendinitis in both wrists so that was hard to write with, but here it is! The latest installment. Content warning— there are instances of implied domestic/ spousal abuse as well as childhood trauma. Again I am so sorry for torturing poor William. He is a sweet innocent baby boy who deserves happiness! 
> 
> The song for this chapter is ‘What difference does it make?’ by The Smiths. This chapter conveys several people’s points of view and experiences in the aftermath of the pool incident, or in which Will’s ride or dies shower him with love, even if he doesn’t see/ know it. I felt the lyrics really conveyed that sense of loving someone so much you’d do anything for them. I hope you enjoy this chapter ❤️
> 
> All men have secrets and here is mine  
> So let it be known  
> For we have been through hell and high tide  
> I think I can rely on you...  
> And yet you start to recoil  
> Heavy words are so lightly thrown  
> But still I'd leap in front of a flying bullet for you  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________________

Joyce looked down at her son, his hand held limply in hers. He looked so fragile and small, even more so than usual. She tried not to see him that way, she tried to allow Will some form of independence after everything that’s happened, but he was always vulnerable. She wanted her boy to thrive; to be the brilliant, kind, sensitive, talented kid she knew he was. She loved him so much, so much that it pained her. Her sons were the most important thing in the world to her, she needed to protect them, she needed to love them. She frowned, eyes swimming with an overwhelming amount of shame, guilt, and despair. She had tried to protect Will, she had tried to shield him from the dangers of the world, but there are somethings no mother can control. And Joyce hated herself for that. She could rescue him from the upside down, she could pluck him away from his father, she could fight for him against bullies and monsters, but she couldn’t rescue Will from himself and that scared her most of all. She knew that despite all the love she held for him, all the love his brother and friends shared, Will couldn’t see it. She couldn’t make him. _He’ll blame himself… He’ll think this was his fault, that he did something to warrant getting beaten up. He’ll think he’s a bad kid._ Joyce knew her son better than anyone, even if he believed he was all alone. Her body shuddered as shallow breaths escaped. She was barely hanging on. Seeing her son lying there, strapped down to a stretcher in a cold metal husk— _the ambulance_ — made her overwhelming sense of guilt bubble over. She sat beside him, lips quivering as she gave up holding back tears. She closed her eyes tightly, trying not to dwell on the things she couldn’t change, the things she couldn’t fix, but it was useless. Joyce ran her hands through Will’s damp hair, feeling the softness. He was like a newborn chick, small and downy, still just a kid. She kept him in her sights, her gaze unflinching. The only relief she could find was the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the knowledge that he could still feel her. She hated how many times she’s seen her son in agony, how many times she’d been unable to take his pain away. Lost in her own trauma, the outside world disappeared. It faded away into just her and Will, the syncing of their breathing, until a a heavy, warm hand rested firmly on her shoulder.

“Joyce…” Jim’s voice trailed off. His own anger threatening to escape.

She turned around to face him, her pale complexion sounding every alarm inside his head. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. He wanted to be there for her and Will, but he didn’t want to overstep his bounds. He cared about Joyce and her boys, hell… maybe he even loved them. Hopper was never good at being emotional, he was never one to explore his concerns and allow himself to feel. He hadn’t been able to since his daughter Sara passed away. He swallowed hard before sitting beside her, taking her free hand in his. He breathed a deep, prolonged sigh and felt himself squeeze her hand. Hopper turned his head to look at Joyce, to communicate how absolutely sorry he was. He wanted to fix this, to make everything okay. He was supposed to protect the people of Hawkins. How could he have let this happen? How could he let Joyce down, let Will down?

“Joyce… Joyce, I’m gonna find the sons of bitches that did this and they’re… I’m gonna fix this. I’m not letting these pieces of shit get away, alright? I’m not resting until I find them and bring them in. I promise you. I promise Will. I—I’m not giving up.”

“I know, Hop. I—” Her voice shook as the words came out.

Her eyes were glassy and tear filled. She could hardly speak, hardly express her anguish and her gratitude. For the first time in years Joyce felt as if she could trust the safety of her sons in someone else’s hands. She was grateful for Hopper, for _Jim_. She tried to smile, to acknowledge him, but it was a weak, feeble smile that hinted more at pretending than sincere belief.

“Please, Jim. Please, I need you to— to let me help get these fuckers and show them not to mess with my kid. Let me… I can’t just sit here and hope, Hop. I need to do _something!_ ”

He frowned. He wanted to give Joyce the okay, to tell her she could handle this and could take on the assholes that brutalized her son, but he legally _couldn’t_. His hands were tied and despite how much he himself wanted to give those punks a thrashing, in his heart he knew they were probably local kids and the best he could do was have a talk with their parents. It incensed him. He felt himself filling with rage, seething anger threatening to rip him apart. He sharply inhaled through his nose, the sterile scent of the ambulance filling his nostrils. He wrapped his arm around Joyce, pulling her close to his chest and he held her. He hung on to her in a tight bear hug letting her crumble beneath him, making sure not to let her fall completely. She buried her head into his chest, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She trembled, feeling the sheer weight of the situation. Her son was a target. An easy, unassuming target. She wondered why, why they chose Will. In her heart she knew it wasn’t just a random act of violence. No, It had to be intentional, thought out, planned, _planned_. Joyce knew that if there was a reason her son would never tell her, that he’d go to any length to brush her off, but this time she wouldn’t let him. This time would be different. She would pull it out of him one way or another. She had to protect Will at all costs. _She had to_. As Joyce let herself relax in Hopper’s arms. She could feel the sheer amount of anger that filled her. She could barely hold it back. She didn’t want to. She wanted to cry and scream and smash _something_ , but she had to keep her composure, not just for Will’s sake, but her own, for his friends. She didn’t want to be the inconsolable mess she’d been when her son disappeared. She was tired of being known as unstable and neurotic. She was just being a mom, that’s what they do. They worry. She swallowed hard, clutching Jims shoulders. She needed to feel him, to know that he was really there and that this time, this time she wasn’t going it alone.

Jim stroked her hair and held her tighter. He couldn’t express how _sorry_ he was, how much he wanted to take her pain away. He kissed the top of her head, trying desperately to show her that he _understood_. It’s an awful thing to see your kid in pain, to not be able to take it all away. He sighed, knowing that he couldn't stay with her through the harrowing ride to the hospital. He had to talk to witnesses, collect evidence, search for some sort of clues, but all he wanted was to comfort Joyce and be there for her and her boy. Being there meant _being there_ , physically there— not just emotional support, but in person contact. The only thing he could do at this point was piece things together behind the scenes and hope that someone saw something, that someone would come forward. He looked down at Will, studying the damage. He was so small and delicate, he looked as if he’d break and crumble into nothing with just a touch. Hopper assessed the bruises and cuts; black eye, split lip, scraped knees and elbows, bruised ribs… probably cracked. It disgusted him that someone could do this to an innocent kid… to a sweet, shy, albeit nerdy, kid. He dragged his hand over his face, feeling the familiar prickle of his mustache. He couldn’t stay too much longer and the ambulance was prepped and ready to go. He hugged Joyce tight one last time before making his way to his truck. She squeezed him right back, harder than either of them thought she was capable of. She didn’t want to let go and neither did he. As they parted Joyce and Hopper met each other’s eyes one last time, wistful and sad. Without a single word they communicated everything, everything their voices didn’t know how to say. She watched him from behind as he disappeared behind the ambulance and she wished, she prayed that he could give her closure, give her answers _soon_. As her eyes trailed away from Jim she caught the kids in her sights. _Will’s friends_. They all shared the same devastated looks, the same anger, the same disbelief. Her eyes drifted from face to face until she locked on to Mike and El. Their rage was strongest of all, the most reminiscent of her own.

Mike couldn’t look away, he couldn’t take his eyes off the helpless boy on the stretcher. _That couldn’t be Will. It had to be someone else._ His mind drifted toward memories of the quarry, of the body pulled out of the freezing November water two years before. _It wasn’t Will. This wasn’t Will_. Mike wrapped his hands tighter and tighter around his handlebars, knuckles turning white. His face took on an angry scowl, contorted and intense. He could feel himself shaking, his body unable to contain the sheer amount of guilt and anguish he felt at the unrelenting thought that he couldn’t do anything. That he wasn’t able to do anything. He let out something akin to a snarl. He felt violent and irate. He wanted so badly to hurt who ever did this ten fold, to beat the shit out of them with his bare hands. He turned to El, trying in vain to remain calm. His anger frightened her. She’d never seen Mike so furious. He softened his gaze, noticing her reaction. His eyes became sad and distant. He tried so hard to suppress his rage, his deep seated fear. It kept bubbling over, threatening to make him do something he’d regret. He needed to be strong. Strong for his friends, strong for Mrs. Byers and Jonathan, for El, for _Will_. Mike couldn’t show them how terrified he was, how much Will’s fragile state pained him. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a deep breath and hold the warm summer air in his nostrils. He had to do this. He had to be the vanguard, taking lead and being brave. He looked back at his friends, all of them trapped in their own varying states of distress. Eyes downturned, heads bowed, awkward stances, fidgeting; the anxiety and dread settling in. A gentle, warm hand rested itself atop his, squeezing it tight. El was in his wavelength, she understood. She always did.

“He’ll be okay, Mike. Will’s strong. He can do this.” She gave him a weak smile that quickly faded when she noticed the silent tears streaming down Mike’s cheeks.

She turned toward Max, a worried expression firmly etched onto her face. Max dropped her shoulders, not knowing what to say or do to give her friend some relief. El returned her attention back to Mike who was staring intently into the open doors of the ambulance. He watched as Joyce cradled her head in her hands, as she tried not to break down. He wanted to drop his bike and run straight into the back of the cab. He needed to see his best friend, to make sure it was really Will. All of the sights and sounds overwhelmed him. The voices of the paramedics seemed to boom, distorting into incoherent sentences that were obscured by their own reverberation. The sounds of the running vehicle were too loud, too close in his ears. The spiraling motion of the lights brought him in and out, shifting between past and present. One moment he was watching Joyce stroking her son’s hair and the next he was twelve years old again, crouched behind an ambulance as the state police dredged “Will’s” lifeless body from the lake at Statler’s quarry. He began to feel an overwhelming sense of panic, as if he would puke at any moment. Lost deep in thought, Mike couldn’t help but ignore the party around him. He couldn’t see Lucas holding Max, clutching her tight in his arms, whispering both to her and himself that everything would be alright. He couldn’t see how Lucas’s leg bounced slightly, how jitters ran up and down his spine. He was oblivious to Max chewing her lip, to her fingers curling tighter and tighter around Lucas’s. In that moment Dustin was a distant memory. He wasn’t behind Mike with wide eyes and clutched handle bars, he wasn’t repeating _Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit._ under his breath. El wasn’t calling his name, she wasn’t looking at him with troubled eyes and a frown, she wasn’t placing her hand over his or leaning into him. No. In this moment the only things that existed where Mike and his best friend strapped to a stretcher ready to be whisked away. His eyes stung with blinding tears, the siren’s strobing lights becoming blurred in his vision. He could feel himself trembling, his body betraying his attempts to be stoic, to man up. The party stood in plain view of the stalled vehicle, the exhaust fumes clinging to the humidity and enveloping them in a toxic fog. Each of them stared into the open doors, anxious and paralyzed. _How could this have happened? Why didn’t they notice?_

The sound of doors slamming shut brought Mike back to the present. He stood blankly, unable to communicate with his friends despite their attempts to reach him. His view to Will had vanished, the ambulance was humming back to life as the brake lights flickered on. The flashing red and blue lights danced in his eyes as the siren’s shrill wail reverberated through the parking lot. Will was disappearing before his eyes. As the ambulance pulled out of the Hawkins Pool Mike felt as if the world was caving in, as if he’d sink right into the ground. His heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach when the flashing colors faded further and further away. He couldn’t just sit there. _He couldn’t_. A surge of adrenaline rushed through him. Before he could understand his own actions he felt himself mounting his bike and flicking up the kickstand.

“Mike?” El’s voice was quiet and concerned.

But he didn’t answer, he didn’t react. She moved toward him, trying desperately to reach him, but he placed his feet on the pedals and without a word he took off in the direction of hospital.

“Mike! Wait!” El ran after him, but it was no use. By the time she reached the fence he was far away, a tiny blip vanishing into the darkness.

The party exchanged worried glances. None of them quite knowing what to do. A silent understanding linked them together. They needed to follow him.

Mike sped down the road, beads of water spraying up as his tires rushed through fresh puddles. He pedaled as fast as his legs could carry him, but it wasn’t fast enough. He had to catch up. He had to be able to see the ambulance. _He had to_. He could hear the far-off shouts of his friends, muffled by the distance he’d created. They didn’t matter now. All that mattered was Will. He needed him to be okay. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t see his best friend tormented by something he was helpless to stop. Mike didn’t want Will to suffer anymore. He needed to be there when he woke up. Mike knew that Will needed that, that he could give him some comfort by sticking by him. They’d been through so much together. As he trailed the ambulance he could feel the devastation weighing down on him, his hands cramping from his tightly held grip. The longer he pursued the more difficult it was to maintain his composure. Once more he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to stop him in his tracks. He quickly wiped them away, trying to stick it out. He could feel their wetness resting on the back of his hand, trickling off with the wind. Behind him was the familiar sound of tires treading pavement. The distinct thrum of bicycles in motion drew closer and closer. He glanced briefly behind him. Dustin, Lucas, Max and El were in pursuit. He let out a somber chuckle, the kind you make when you’re not sure what to do. He smiled softly to himself. _He wasn’t alone_.

“Mike! Slow down, man!” Lucas called out as he approached his left side.

Mike dropped his shoulders, relieved that he could rely on his friends. They closed in, forming a sort of arrow behind him, hot in pursuit of Will. They rode the rest of the way in silence, too overwhelmed to say a single word. They were all too preoccupied in their thoughts.

The sound of sirens faded in and out, their chirping echoing inside the ambulance. Will felt heavy, like his body was weighed down by some unknown force. He felt some sort of cross between numb and excruciating pain, both sensations pulsing through him intermittently. He wasn’t quite sure where he was or how he got there. It was all so overwhelming. He tried in vain to move, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate, they were glued to his sides… he was restrained? The world was still dark beneath his eyelids, he was almost too scared to open them. He felt weak, his whole body incapable of listening to him, just like when he was trapped in the upside down. Just how he felt before the world went dark there, too— before his mom came to rescue him. _Mom_. The words caught in his throat, drawing out in a strained whisper. His throat was sore, it felt raw and his voice was raspy as the sound came out in a painful groan.

“Mom?” He blinked the cabin of the ambulance into view. The metal walls were far too bright and everything was slightly out of focus.

“Will!” Joyce cried out, leaning down to kiss his forehead and beginning to stroke his hair.

Her hands were warm and comforting. He was safe. He was with Joyce and on his way to the hospital. _Hospital_. He swallowed hard, his throat stinging with the movement. He knew that he’d have to tell the doctors what happened. He’d have to tell his mom. A wave of guilt and shame washed over him. It was intense as he looked at Joyce with wide, panicked eyes. His breathing hitched and his heart rate spiked. He began to hyperventilate, trying desperately not to have one of his episodes. The paramedic riding in the back with them rushed to his side, his voice barely registering in Will’s ears.

“Will, baby, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m with you. Mom’s here. I love you, sweetie. I’ve got you.”

She looked into his wild eyes, her own swimming with concern and an outpouring of love. She continued to stroke his hair, trying to soothe his frenzied state. He felt himself relax a little, melting into the stretcher. None of his worries mattered right now. In this moment it was him and his mom. He didn’t have to say a word and when he did he was pretty sure he could come up with a semi convincing lie. _She can’t know the truth._ He flashed Joyce a dejected smile, trying to make her believe he was alright. She kissed his hand, holding it gently in her own. She continued to hold him in her gaze, she worried about him like she always did. She gave him a smile of her own, reassuring him that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“We’re almost there, Will. The doctors are gonna fix you right up. I promise.”

He gave her a sheepish nod. He needed her to believe that he wasn’t utterly and absolutely terrified of what came next.

The ambulance pulled into the bay and slowed to a complete stop. The paramedics sitting opposite Joyce began to prep for exit, opening the doors and transporting Will and the equipment toward the ground. He felt the wheels of the stretcher hit the pavement with a gentle thud beneath him and before he knew it the bright overhead lights of the hospital hallway were passing by above him. He clenched his jaw as they rushed him to the ER, praying that this would all be over soon, but he knew it wouldn’t. He was dreading the probing questions to come, the concern of his mom and Jonathan and his friends, the tests, and the hospital itself. Will had grown to hate hospitals and doctors. They’d been there for every trauma he’d faced and he’d be damn well pleased if he never had to step foot in a hospital ever again. He was tired of being treated as if he were a fragile decoration. He just wanted to be a kid and enjoy it. But that stopped in November of 1983 when he disappeared. He stopped being a regular kid the minute he left his bike on Mirkwood. His body ached as he was wheeled into an empty room and transferred to a bed. He could feel the newly formed bruises and cuts littering his body. It was difficult to breath and his chest hurt every time it rose and fell. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was angry and scared. He was mad at himself for letting this happen, for not being able to stand up for himself and fight them off. He was furious that he was weak, that he was a pussy, that his own fucked up thoughts, that who he was, landed him here. This was absolutely 100% his fault and deep down he felt he deserved the beating, that it was bound to happen. He looked at his mom, trying not to let his face betray him. He was so tired; mentally, physically, emotionally.

“I’m okay, mom. I promise. Are you okay… I’m sorry I— I’m sorry I worried you.” He struggled to get sound to come out. His voice was like gravel in his throat.

Joyce had tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t believe her son was worried about _her_ at a time like this. She couldn’t believe how tough and strong he was. He shouldn’t have to be. She wanted Will to tell the truth, to tell her that he wasn’t really fine and that he was scared and in pain, but she couldn’t force him. She didn’t want to push him away. So she smiled at him instead and whispered;

“There’s my Will. Always worried about everyone else. You know what we said about always saying sorry?”

He nodded “I know, mom. I’m sor—” He cut himself short, realizing he was doing it _again_.

As the two settled uncomfortably into the room, the curtain partition was drawn back. In stepped a young doctor, scrubbed up and ready to give Joyce and her son his undivided attention. He cautiously approached the bed, offering them a kind smile. It made Will feel somewhat relaxed, as if maybe this doctor wouldn’t patronize him. He gave a weak grin in return and studied the physician carefully, part skeptical part hopeful. The doctor bent down, hand extended out toward Joyce, offering to shake and make introductions. He did the same for Will, genuinely friendly and concerned.

“Hi, I’m doctor Lensky. I’ll be looking after you, Will.” He paused, his eyes darting from the chart to Will. “It looks like you’ve had a rough day, huh?” He wasn’t patronizing, just attentive.

Will looked up at him, hand still held limply in his post handshake. He gently nodded before giving an answer.

“It wasn’t what I’d planned, exactly.” He tried to inject some humor, hoping that it might make the line of questioning to come less probing.

“Could you tell me what happened, Will?”

Will clenched his jaw, swallowing hard as his eyes drifted toward his mom. He didn’t want to answer, he had to think of something to say that wasn’t _incriminating_.

“I— I don’t really remember.” He lied. “I went into the locker room at the pool and I felt someone push me, but I didn’t see who it was. Then… then the next thing I remember is my friends— I was on the ground outside and they were looking down at me and then I woke up in the ambulance.” Not once did he meet Dr. Lensky’s gaze. He was too petrified of being exposed.

Dr. Lensky took notes intently, giving Will a quick study before Joyce chimed in to add the little details she knew.

“He… he’d been passed out for a while by the time I got there.” Tears threatening to spill out again. “The kids— his friends said he’d disappeared for a bit before they’d noticed he was gone and then they went looking for him and heard banging and screaming from inside the locker room, from the sauna and— and they found him like this.” She frowned, gesturing to her son.

Will felt his expression drop, he couldn’t bear to hear his mom’s despair. He shifted slightly in the bed, wincing in pain as he moved. He spoke one more time, he needed to derail their focus from what happened.

“I just remembered getting pushed and I felt like I was being punched, but— but I didn’t open my eyes to see what was happening. It was all so fast.”

He couldn’t help but replay the incident in his mind. He could feel the disgusted glares, the sound of their laughter and jeering as they cornered him, when Mark landed the first blow. His body instinctively jerked as he remembered Troy spitting in his face. A wave of nausea washed over him, just as it had before and he recalled with humiliation throwing up all over himself. He felt repulsive and pathetic. The pain kept playing over and over in his mind, torturing him. He blinked vigorously, his heart pounding as he remembered the moment his head smashed into the cement. He felt as if he might pass out again. Everything was so overwhelming and threatening. He was like a cornered animal with nowhere left to run. The room seemed as if it were spinning and the nausea refused to subside. Will knew that he was just as pale as he felt, that his outside appearance now matched the storm raging within. Off to the side, what seemed miles away, he could hear his mom repeating _Will, honey?_ But the storm grew thicker and thicker until the room disappeared. Once more the world went dark as Will drifted in and out of consciousness, panic taking over. He could feel himself falling further and further down into nothingness. That’s what he was. Nothing. Will Byers… _insignificant fag_. He swallowed hard, scrunching his eyes tight before he opened them to see an expansive blackness that stretched on forever. He took a step forward, water rippling with each movement. It was almost as if he were in another dimension, only it wasn’t the upside down. It seemed calmer somehow, yet he still couldn’t shake the feeling something sinister was waiting in the shadows. In the distance he could see a dim white glow. Something about it’s faint flicker called to him.

He was chasing after someone. Someone distant, yet uncomfortably familiar. His footsteps echoed behind him as the light grew closer. Before his eyes, enveloped in the sphere of light, was a small boy no more than 8 years old. He was hiding in a crawlspace crying with his head tucked beneath his knees. Will approached him carefully, feeling an uneasiness crawling up his spine as he heard distant shouts in the surrounding darkness. The voices were loud and imposing, echoing in booming angry tones. They belonged to a man and woman. They were so familiar, yet he couldn’t quite place them. They were distorted and more monstrous than anything he could distinctly remember. They screamed at each other, hurling biting words and insults. _Bitch, asshole, motherfucker, bastard, cun—_ They faded in and out, only leaving bits and pieces. Will closed his eyes, trying to listen to the words so that maybe he could figure out why the voices were so hauntingly familiar. _You don’t even care about him!_ The woman’s voice was sad and filled with rage. _He’s a fucking pussy! You let him run around with those fucking crayons drawing frou-frou shit, playing make believe when he should be learning what it means to be a man!_ Will swallowed hard, fear bubbling up in his stomach. _I can’t believe you. You… You fucking asshole. He’s your son! At least act like you care about him. You can’t even see how much he loves you. Or what? You don’t want to? Why because he’s a—_ she stopped short, a smacking sound resonating in the dark as a gasp escaped her lips. Will could feel himself trembling, he was afraid of the man’s voice, he was afraid of him. Of what would come next. _Because he’s a fucking queer, Joyce. YOUR son. Not mine. YOUR son is gonna grow up to be a fucking fairy and I want no part in it. You, you and those boys make me fucking sick. I don’t know why I put up with you, you stupid bitch!_ The sound of shattering glass forced Will out of their dysfunction. The vindictive, hateful voices… they belonged to _Mom and Dad?_

Will looked toward the sobbing little boy in front of him. He studied each hiccup and tremor, each sniffle. The boy before him sat in the confines of the claustrophobic crawlspace, flashlight at his side and crayons and scraps of paper all around him. Will couldn’t quite make out what he had scribbled in the dim light, but it was _colorful_. He blinked vigorously, trying to decipher the lines and shapes. He took another step toward the scared, lonely kid. Will crouched down to pick up the childish drawing, turning it in his hands until it took shape. It was a spaceship, a rainbow spaceship. _His_ rainbow spaceship. He gasped, tears beginning to form in his own eyes. The little boy crying in the dark was _him_. He was all alone, then and now. Will had no one to turn to. He sat in the dark next to his younger self and watched him intently, feeling so much pain for him. Shudders ran up Will’s spine as he heard the sound of a slamming door. _That’s right. This is the night dad left._ He took a deep breath, looking at little Will one last time before re-enacting the same steps he took that night. He burst out of the crawl space and bolted toward the front door. He needed to stop his dad, to try and make him stay. _I want him to tell me he loves me._ Will ran as fast as he could into the front yard and toward Lonnie’s car, but he was too late. His dad was already pulling out of the driveway and Will knew he would never catch up to him. His heart sunk. He couldn’t stop him, but that didn’t deter Will from chasing after Lonnie. He ran out into the road and trailed after the car as fast as his legs would carry him, but he knew it was pointless.

“Dad! Dad, please! Please come back! I love you!” I screamed as hot, angry tears rolled down his cheeks.

Will relented, resigning to the fact that he was powerless. He sighed a heavy, dejected sigh before hearing the sound of his own name carrying through the air. It was faint, almost like a whisper and it sounded like _Jonathan_.

Will’s eyes fluttered open, his lashes blurring his vision as he blinked. He was back in the hospital, back with all the things he didn’t want to face. He tensed up, feeling new pains and sensations he hadn’t before. He brought his hand to the side of his head. There was a small row of stitches prickling just beneath his fingers. He sighed as he tried to fully take in the room. _It was empty_. He shifted his weight, trying to peer into places he couldn’t quite see lying on his back. But he still couldn’t find Joyce, or the doctor, but he could hear Jonathan. Through the curtain divider he could make out the silhouettes of what he was sure were his mom and brother. Joyce’s head was bowed, a somber aura weighed down on her. Though obscured by the curtain, her body language was clear. She was distraught. Will could see the outline of Jonathan leaning in to close the distance between him and their mom, holding her tight in his arms and reassuring her that everything would be ok.

“Will’s a tough kid, mom. He’ll be alright. He survived a week on his own in that shit hole. He made it through the mindflayer thing… He made it through dad.” Jonathan paused, troubling memories threatening to resurface. “I bet when he wakes up again he’ll be worrying about everyone else like he always does. He’s stronger than we give him credit for.”

“I— I know. You’re right. You’re right. I need to stop babying him. He won’t say anything, but I know he hates how much I hover. I’m too involved— but, Jonathan… It’s stuff like this… It’s shit like this that makes me want to fight his battles for him. I can’t keep watching Will struggle. I don’t know how much more I can take. I shouldn’t be unloading all of this on you, sweetie, but no one else really understands. They don’t _know_. They don’t know what our family’s been through and I just want to take his pain away. As a mom that’s all I want to do. I just— I want to protect you and help both of you thrive. But how can I stop shit like this from happening? How can I make everything okay when kids like Will never come out unscathed?”

Will swallowed hard. _Kids like Will_. What did his mom mean by that? What was she trying to say, what was she implying? Will tried not to panic. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the thought out of his mind and returned to what he knew was supposed to be a private conversation.

“Mom. Mom, you’re doing it again. You’re rambling. I get it… he’s an easy target. I was too. I sucks. It really fucking sucks and I wish I could be with him all the time to make it stop, but I can’t. I don’t know what to say or do to make it better. I’ve tried with him— I’ve tried so many times to be there and get him to open up to me, to talk to me… but he won’t.” Jonathan began to cry. It wasn’t an obvious cry, but Will knew him well enough to hear the subtle shake in his voice. “Something else is going on and he won’t tell me and that terrifies me, mom! It scares me so much. I can’t make it disappear with a secret fort or pancakes or a mixtape. I can’t even have talk like that with him. He’s just… quiet. All the time. He never says anything about what’s really going on and I hate it. I feel like a shitty brother. He can’t trust me enough to tell me what’s wrong… I feel like I let him down.”

“I know, sweetie. I know. I feel like a shitty mom. Working odd hours, not always being emotionally available. I feel like I let both of you down.”

“Mom…” Jonathan trailed off. Will could tell that he wanted so desperately to comfort their mom but didn’t know how.

Joyce and Jonathan quickly rushed to Will’s side, Jonathan sitting on the edge of the bed and Joyce settling in the chair beside him. She kissed his hand and squeezed it tight while his brother offered him a warm smile.

“He bud. I’m glad you’re up. You really scared me for a minute.” Jonathan’s upbeat cadence faltered, it was hard for him to lie.

Will smiled back at him, trying to quell their worries.

“I’m okay, it just hurts a little when I—” He cut himself off. _Don’t make them worry anymore than they already are. Stupid._

“Yeah, you look a little rough there.” Jonathan laughed.

Just as he was about to reassure his brother, Will heard what sounded like multiple hurried footsteps rushing toward him. The curtain yanked back, five out of breath teenagers stared straight at him. Will wasn’t gonna lie. It startled him a bit, but the moment he saw his friends a massive, genuine grin unfurled across his lips. He was undeniably happy to see them. He regarded each and every one of them, appreciating, and regretting, their ever loyal concern. Dustin stood at the foot of the bed behind Jonathan, front toothless smile plastered firmly in place at the realization Will was relatively okay. Max and Lucas finally separated their hands, awkwardly shifting weight and fidgeting. El walked over toward Joyce, putting her hand on her shoulder, eventual replacing it with her head. He knew his mom needed that. Eleven probably did too. Her eyes flicked to Mike who was desperately trying to push his way through to his best friend. He _needed_ to make sure Will was okay. He stopped at the side of the bed, opposite El and Joyce and smirked mischievously at Will. He’s gonna try to play it cool.

“How many hit points do you think you lost, William?” Mike sat on the sliver of bed that wasn’t occupied by Will or Jonathan.

Will couldn’t help but laugh. Mike always knew how to lighten the mood.

“I dunno… probably just shy of having to make death saving throws.” He beamed back at him.

Mike gently nudged his arm, bringing much needed banter. He studied Will carefully, trying to find the words to express his concern and relief. He eyed the fresh stitches sewn into Will’s temple. He frowned before he realized he had absolutely no poker face. He needed to recover.

“You’re gonna have a really cool scar. Right guys?”

“Yeah, totally.” Lucas agreed.

“You look super badass!” Dustin added.

El lifted her head off of Joyce’s shoulder, looking around at the rest of the party.

“No. Bitchin’.” She smiled.

Will smiled, too. He felt safe, like he didn’t have to worry about the events of the night for a moment. It was a welcome reprieve. His friends were all here, here to support him. He needed this. He needed to know that he was loved and that everyone he cared about cared about him, too. He noticed mike fidgeting, obvious nerves legible all over. This time Will frowned.

“Mike?”

“Yeah? What’s up?

“Are you ok?”

A stunned look made it’s way across Mike’s face. _Will was worried about HIM?_ He let out a small chuckle.

“Start worrying about yourself for once, Will. You really scared us back there. I— we— are really stoked that you’re not total minced meat, just a partially minced.” He squeezed Will’s hand. He never failed to make Will feel like he belonged, like he was taken care of and appreciated.

Mike’s lips parted to say tell him something, but the happy reunion was promptly interrupted. Will wouldn’t get to enjoy and heal in in the company of his friends. No, he now had someone else to answer to. Chief Jim Hopper. His mom’s boyfriend stepped into the room, striding over to Joyce as he removed his hat and held it to his chest. _Shit this is serious._ Will felt all the color drain from his face. _No. No. Not now. Everyone’s gonna find out. He’s gonna ask me about it. He won’t let me lie, he won’t take no for an answer. This isn’t happening. He’s angry at me. They’re all gonna be angry. You’re so stupid, Will. Stupid, stupid, stupid._ He swallowed hard, staring the sherif in the eye. This was either going to stop the torment, to put Troy and those assholes in their place with little to no proof of why they kicked the shit out of him or totally blow up in his face, his deepest darkest secret spilling out into reality for everyone to judge and abandon him. And Will wasn’t prepared for either scenario.


	6. Private Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has to ease suspicion somehow. He has to find a way to escape the probing questions and concern. All he wants is to be left alone. Or does he? Will is extremely conflicted; his friends are worried, his mom is worried, Jonathan is worried. Will can’t hide the truth forever and unfortunately it’s not entirely up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovely readers! Thank you so much for you support and kind feedback, it means so much to me. This chapter delves a bit deeper into some of Will’s inner most thoughts and fears and features some pining for Mike, concerned Hopper, protective af Jonathan, and rehashes some stuff from old chapters. Once again slurs are featured and some references to parental neglect/ child abuse. The song for this chapter is ‘Private Life’ by Oingo Boingo. Despite it’s super catchy upbeat tempo, the lyrics made me think of what Will’s going through at the moment. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the next installment. 
> 
> This is my private bed  
> This is where I lie at night  
> Staring at a light bulb hanging on the ceiling  
> Waiting for a dream to  
> Come and get me out of here  
> Here in my humble room at night  
> I often wonder what goes on out there  
> What makes them runs so scared  
> I often stare at the people passing by  
> But they can't see me through my window shades  
> Just like I'm not even there  
> This is my private life  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hop stood with his hand on Joyce’s shoulder, eyes grim with concern as his gaze met Will’s. Will swallowed hard, sitting in fearful anticipation. He wasn’t ready for what was coming next. He was intimidated, petrified even— not of Hopper, but of what truths _might_ be revealed. He balled his fists beneath the blankets, slipping his hand away from Mike’s comforting grip. He prepared himself for the possibility of his worst fears being realized. He drew his lips into a taught line, unable to look the chief in the eye. Will could feel the his eyes fixed upon him, unwavering and intense. He couldn’t bear the weight that now settled into the room, the heavy anxiety and concern that now laid plague to every single person crowded around him. Before all he longed for was the comfort of his family, his friends— but now Will wanted them all to disappear. He wanted to disappear. He slowly dragged his eyes from where Mike’s hand had been towards Hopper. He had to man up sooner or later, to face whatever might be thrown his way. _Stop being such a pussy, Will. Don’t let them see right through you, you fucking cry baby. Grow the fuck up._ They finally locked eyes, two different meanings radiating between their glances.

“Hey kid” Jim attempted a smile. It wasn’t a sure smile, it was neither comforting nor reassuring to say the least.

Will stared blankly, his eyes taking in everything and nothing. He didn’t utter a word. He was almost expressionless, like tv static. _Earth to Will… You have to do SOMETHING, say something! Anything!_ He let out an inconspicuous sigh, trying desperately to suppress his dissociative state. His lips parted to speak, but no sound came out. All eyes were on him.

“I— I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” Hopper paused, turning to face Joyce. “I had to follow some leads and I—” His eyes darted back to Will, an obvious reluctance hitched in his voice. He didn’t want to embarrass the kid, to put him on the spot, on display. He knew he needed to give him some privacy. He knew that Will probably wanted nothing to do with him right now, that he desperately wanted to be left alone. But Jim needed to solve this and that meant disregarding Will’s wishes whether it sat well with him or not. He needed to protect him. He couldn’t fail again. It wasn’t an option this time.

Joyce squeezed Hop’s hand. She didn’t need to utter a single word to say thank you. Guilt weighed heavy in Will’s chest, as if his heart was made of lead. He scanned the faces filed into the tiny room, if you could even call it that. He hated the way they all looked at him. _Pity_. They had the same look everyone gave him. They felt sorry for him, saw him as weak and frail and incapable. The mere thought made him angry. He was tired of being seen as some feeble pity case. The only person who never looked at him that way was Mike. It left Will with a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. _Mike_. Mike always believed in him, always looked out for him— not out of obligation or self interest, but because he was kind. They’d been stuck like glue to each other since kindergarten. They’d faced bullies and being sidelined and traumas and loneliness together. Hell, they’d been through things that most kids could never have imagined in their wildest dreams or worst nightmares. Mike and Will had been through some messed up shit, crazy shit. _Crazy together._ Will felt blush creep across his cheeks and spilling onto his ears. Every time he thought of Mike like that he felt butterflies in his chest, he felt lightheaded and overwhelmed with excitement, joy, confusion, and _fear_. That was the worst part. He didn’t want to have to be afraid of his own feelings, of who he was. He wouldn’t be lying if he said it didn’t scare him that he might just be a little bit in love with his best friend. Will could feel the heat of Mike’s hand still resting on the bed next to him. Only a minute or two had passed since Hopper entered the room, since he had spoken to him, but to Will it felt like an eternity. How long had he been thinking about Mike? How long had he been thinking about how close they were, how Mike had held his hand in his? How many moments had passed while he pictured himself laying next to him on Weathertop staring at the stars, imagining his head on his shoulder, hearing the almost inaudible sound Mike breathed when he smirked? How many lifetimes did Will spend imagining what it would be like to kiss him?

Will felt the mattress sink slightly as a new body sat on the edge of the hospital bed, drawing him out of his daydreams. His eyes met Hopper’s. Now wasn’t the time for dwelling on things that would never happen. He couldn’t afford to imagine a future that would never be, one that if discovered would ruin his life. He shifted anxiously, not knowing quite how to interact with the chief. This was the last place he’d rather be and the heavy look on Hopper’s face wasn’t helping quell any of his worries.

“Look kid,” Hop spoke in a soft, low tone. Will, unfortunately, knew where this was headed. “We need to talk about what happened tonight.”

Will frowned. He wasn’t ready. He never would be, but this was inevitable.

“It can be just you and me, or your mom can stay, or whatever you feel most comfortable with, but we gotta talk.”

Will swallowed hard. None of the options sounded particularly good, but he knew having his friends there would only make it more difficult. He didn’t want his mom or Jonathan to be there when he eventually _had_ to disclose the painful, horrifying ordeal in detail. He could spare them that at least. _For now_. He only had one slightly less dreadful option. It would have to be one on one. 

“I… I don’t know.” Will looked at his mom, guilt swimming in his eyes.

“It’s okay Will, whatever you choose I won’t be mad. I promise.” Joyce smiled.

“Can we be alone?’ His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Sure thing, kid.” Hopper nodded, signaling everyone to give them some space.

As his friends and family trailed out of the room Will studied them one last time. He felt at ease knowing none of them would have to hear exactly what he went through, but he’d never felt more alone. Not even when he was trapped in the upside down or when he was possessed by the mindflayer. At least then he could sound crazy and still be understood. None of the people he loved could understand this. The last one to leave wasn’t his mom or Jonathan, but Mike. He left Will with a warm, reassuring smile. It made him feel a sense of ease if only for a moment.

“We’ll be right out here if you need us. Don’t worry, Chief knows I’d never let him be too much of an asshole.” He let out his signature shit stirrer grin and pulled the curtain shut, leaving Will alone with Jim.

Hopper rolled his eyes and sighed. He was obviously tired of Mike’s antics, having dealt with them enough with his daughter. He returned his focus to Will, a serious demeanor taking over.

“Tell me straight, Will. I need to know exactly what happened. You’re not in trouble, I promise. I wanna help you, but I gotta know. Can you do that?”

Will let out a reluctant nod. He wanted so badly to lie, but he felt himself cracking under pressure. _Can you lie by omission? Don’t tell him everything, try to be convincing. You’re gonna give yourself away. Damn it._ He tried to gather his thoughts precisely before beginning a doctored version of events, but he couldn’t get his mom’s voice out of his head. _No more secrets_. 

“I— I don’t remember everything. It’s kind of fuzzy. It happened super fast and I didn’t really see who it was.”

Jim had a note pad in his hand, primed and ready to take down what Will said in excruciating detail. _Shit, this is gonna be harder than I thought._ Will eyed Hop’s pen as it hovered over the yellow paper, anticipating his testimony.

“I remember going to the locker room to get my stuff… I wanted to go home. I didn’t want to— I didn’t wanna be late for dinner.” His sentences were short, devoid of emotion. He was trying so hard not to appear weak in front of his mom’s new boyfriend. Will was always wary of new men in his life, even if they were as nice as Bob Newby.

“Okay, what happened next?”

“It was empty… But after I got to the locker I heard them…” He trailed off.

“Them?” Jim questioned. _So it was multiple._

Will couldn’t hide the look of panic on his face, the look that revealed he told a truth he didn’t want to let lose.

“I— they came up behind me… I don’t know how many of them, I didn’t look— I didn’t want to look.” His voice hitched, he could barely hold back the tears forming in his eyes. “That’s when I felt it.” He could feel himself trembling.

“Feel what? What did they do?”

“He punched me. He punched me in the stomach and— and then they pushed me to the ground and they… they dragged me…” He could hear his voice shaking, catching in his throat. He felt helpless all over again and he hated himself for it.

Hopper looked at him with a mix of guilt, rage, and sadness. Will could see his grip tighten around his pen as he relayed his ordeal. His eyes were unflinching, locked on Will the whole time.

“They dragged me. By my hair. He just kept hitting me. Over and over. They wouldn’t stop.” He looked up at Hopper, tears and snot running down his face that was now red and blotchy with shame. “Then he, the voice was different, it was someone else… I didn’t see, I was too scared to look. He slammed my head into the ground and They laughed at me. They wouldn’t stop laughing, they wouldn’t… and they kept calling me fa—” He stopped himself short. The word felt dirty in his mouth, even if it was just part of it. _No. Not that, don’t tell him. He doesn’t need to know. Why did you even tell him all that in the first place, Will? Do you want to fuck things up for yourself? Are you fucking serious?_

Hopper could see the look of sheer panic on the kid’s face, but he knew he was getting somewhere. He knew Will wasn’t being totally and completely truthful. _What was he hiding? Why is he lying? Is he protecting someone?_ The last thing Jim wanted was for Will to be afraid to tell him, to be afraid of him. He sighed, trying not to appear frustrated. It wasn’t an annoyed frustration, more of a realization that he might not get the answers he wanted, the ones he needed. He lifted his pen from the note pad, and fiddled with it between his fingers before gathering his thoughts. He needed Will to tell him the truth somehow. He needed to get on his level, to talk to him calmly, act like his friend. Joyce’s voice rang in his head. _Yeah like a heart to heart. You talk to them like you’re their friend._ He cleared his throat, hoping what came out of his mouth next might get through to Will.

“I really want you to know that no matter what, no matter what you tell me, you are absolutely not in trouble. I promise. No one’s mad at you, no one’s gonna be upset. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just trying to help you, kid. I can’t do that if you don’t tell me fully. I can’t protect you. You can trust me, ok?”

Will looked into his lap. He felt defeated and incredibly at fault. He paused for several moments before looking at Hopper, tears in his eyes. It was the same petrified, gut wrenching look he had when he confessed to Joyce that he had been possessed by that _thing_. It pained Jim to see the kid in such turmoil. He wanted so badly to go into dad mode and fix things, but right now he needed to be a cop. He questioned himself. Could he somehow be both? He stared at Will for a moment longer, anticipating his response. He hoped from the bottom of his heart he would trust him. Will gave a sheepish nod, finally relenting a bit.

“What did they say to you? I know you know who said it, who did it, Will. Hawkins is a small town, I’m not buying that you don’t know. I’m not you’re enemy here.” He tried to reassure him.

Will desperately tried to think on his feet he needed to come up with something believable, something that he could get away with. He sighed, trying to act as if Jim succeeded in prying _something_ out of him.

“Okay…” His voice was dejected and sad. _Keep it up Will. I think it’s working._ “I— I don’t know their names. They’re high schoolers. They’re seniors I think. I’ve seen them around when Jonathan drives me to school.” He kept looking down, catching glimpses of Hopper jotting down his deceptions. “I don’t know why they did it. I don’t know… they just. They just did. It was all stuff I’d heard before… freak, pussy, zombie boy.”

“Zombie Boy?” Hopper cocked his brow.

“Yeah… cause everyone thought I was dead…” He frowned, recalling his transition back into Hawkins from the upside down.

“Do you think you could point them out to me if you saw them again?” Jim questioned.

Will nodded, secretly hoping Hopper wouldn’t find a thing and if he did that he could hide his reaction. He watched as Hopper scribbling down the last few bits of information before flipping the note pad closed. He looked up at Will, offering him a genuine smile. It was sort of off putting to see the chief have a gentleness to him, but it didn’t bother him. It was just _different_.

“Alright, Will. I’m gonna head out. Get the ball rolling a bit. If you remember anything else you tell your mom, okay? Have her call me.”

  
Will shook his head, assuring the chief he would do as instructed even if he didn’t mean it. Jim acknowledged him fondly before he stood up, putting his hat firmly back on his head before stepping out of the room. Will could hear his footsteps trailing off before the sounds of the chief bidding his mom goodnight carried back from the hallway. Will breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. It was over for tonight at least and he could finally relax. He could finally let his guard down. His eyes trailed to the curtain as he heard it drawing back, revealing his mom, brother, and friends minus El. Hopper had taken her home for the evening. He didn’t want to show it, but he was a little let down. He wanted to be surrounded by his friends. All of them. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he’d felt sort of distant lately. He felt as if the party didn’t really get him anymore despite how much he wanted them to. Lucas was always off with Max and if he wasn’t he was talking about her. He took up playing baseball again, which Will didn’t really get, but he knew Lucas enjoyed it. He got to spend time with his dad. Dad. The thought of other kids spending time with their fathers always left him with a twinge of jealousy. Will wanted nothing more than to have his own father acknowledge him, but he knew that was a pipe dream. He’d never really known what that was like anyway. Was he really missing much? He couldn’t help but wish that he could have that too, even if Lonnie was an asshole. He wanted to spend time with some sort of father figure who would teach him things, even if he wasn’t remotely interested. A father who would bring him to work with him, who would listen to his interests, who would fall asleep in front of the tv after a family meal and a long day at work… even if he was like Ted Wheeler. He wanted a dad who _loved_ him. Will sighed. They rest of the party didn’t have a Lonnie. None of them would really get it. Well, maybe El and Max might. Max was always complaining about how shitty her step dad was. And El rarely spoke about the man she called Papa from her time in Hawkins lab, but when she did he sounded absolutely awful. So, maybe they did empathize with him, but they weren’t him. He could never presume to know how he felt and they couldn’t live in his head. But all that was besides the point. Will had felt removed and isolated and he didn’t know how to break out of this depressing, lonely cycle. Will’s mind drifted back to how forgotten he felt. He was tired of being ignored for the girls or that El and Max never invited him to hang out one on one. Yeah, there was girl time, but sometimes he needed to get away from the guys, too. But Will never really wanted to get away from Mike, even when he was mad at him.

Lost in thought Will barely registered the fact that his mom was trying to get his attention. She shook him gently as her mouth formed the words _Will, sweetie?_ He looked up, dazed look on his face.

“Huh?”

“Will you’re friends are talking to you.” Joyce raised her eyebrows, gesturing toward the anxious gang of teenagers.

“Sorry guys, I guess I’m kind of out of it…” He trailed off.

Max piped up. “If you’re up for it we were gonna go to the arcade tomorrow…” She smiled brightly, freckled cheeks dimpling.

“But that’s only if the doctors let you out and your mom says it’s okay.” Dustin added.

“Don’t worry guys,” Joyce looked at Will. “The doctor said he’s all clear to come home. He’s all patched up and good to go.”

Mike’s eager smile lit up the room. His eyes swimming with excitement at the prospect that Will would be alright, that they’d have him back by morning. It made Will happy, happy to know that they all wanted to include him.

“Yeah! And I’ve got this pretty sweet campaign planned if you wanna play. I know we’ve been slacking lately and I haven’t been the best DM so I thought we’d make it up to you.” Mike was bubbling with enthusiasm.

Will grinned, he grinned so wide that his cheeks started to hurt.

“Yeah, Yeah. I’d really like that.” He looked at Joyce. “But only if you say it’s okay.” He felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

“Of course it’s okay. I’m not mad at you, you’re not in trouble. Remember?” She ruffled his hair before turning to the kids.

“Alright guys. It’s after nine and I don’t want all your parents worrying about you. As much as Will probably wants you to stay, I think we better get him home and rested up so you can hang out tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mrs. Byers.” They replied in various degrees of unison before saying their goodbyes to Will. 

As they left Will’s eyes lingered on Mike for a moment to long. He couldn’t help but feel a subtle sadness burning inside his chest. He wanted nothing more than for him to stay, to spend time with just the two of them. Will wanted him to comfort him, to reassure him and distract him from his own anxieties, to get lost in his smile. He sunk into the mattress a bit as he imagined what it would be like if Mike was still sitting there holding his hand, if it they were alone in the room with no one else to bother them. Will contemplated a world where he could tell Mike just what he meant to him, just how he felt. Will sighed as he imagined what it would be like to say the words: _I love you Mike Wheeler_ without the fear of losing his best friend. He wished so badly that he could confess his feelings, that there were no consequences to those unfortunately dangerous actions. He wished that despite it all; that despite all the torment, the anxiety, the fear, the inevitable violence and hatred that he’d face, he could be happy.

With his thoughts stuck on Mike, Will had barely noticed his mom speaking with the doctor for the last time. He didn’t notice her signing forms or his brother pulling fresh clothes out of his messenger bag or the doctor wishing him a speedy recovery. He felt Jonathan pat him gently on his shoulder, shaking him from his daydreams.

“Hey, bud. Let’s get you dressed and on our way home. I bet your own bed’s way more comfortable.” He handed Will a clean pair of pants and t-shirt and stepped out to wait for him. Before Will knew it he had walked to the car and was in the passenger’s seat on his way back home. Jonathan had popped a cassette into the deck with songs Will hadn’t heard before as he drummed his hands on the steering wheel. The car felt safe and comfortable, the music lulling him into a steady trance. He rolled down his window, letting the mild summer air blow throw his hair as he hung his head out the window. It was nice. He could stay in this moment for a while, just hearing the lyrics and feeling the breeze. He hummed in sync with the beat, even if he didn’t know the words, he always liked when his brother shared something new with him. It was how they bonded. He listened intently to the words, trying to memorize the song. It was always the lyrics that drew him in over the actual rhythm.

  
_This is my private life_  
I have no friends to fear  
I've got no problems no cross to bear  
If you can find me  
Come and get me out of here

The world outside began to fade in and out, his eyes growing heavy. Despite having fallen unconscious several times that evening, Will was utterly exhausted. Getting the shit kicked out of you can do that to a person. And so by the time Jonathan pulled up to the Byers’ residence Will was fast asleep. He popped the tape from the deck before cutting the engine and proceeded to make his way to the passenger’s side. He scooped his little brother up in his arms and carried him to his room. Despite Will being fourteen, he was still quite small. It made it easier for Jonathan to lift him, but it also left him appearing younger than he was, more vulnerable. Jonathan passed Joyce on his way to Will’s bed, pausing to let her kiss him on the cheek, saying goodnight. They were both fatigued from the night’s ordeal and ready to make their way to their own rooms, but Jonathan knew he had to settle Will in and make sure he was alright. He opened the door, pushing it with his foot before he made his way to the bed and gently laid Will down, making sure to take care and not bump or disturb any of his injuries. He tucked him in, regarding him lovingly before making his way to Will’s desk, intending to leave him with the new mix tape. He leaned over to write him a note, searching for a pen and paper before he noticed ripped up drawings littering the floor near the trash can. He picked up the pieces and sat carefully at Will’s desk. Jonathan began to arrange the fragments, puzzling them together. As the images took shape they deeply disturbed him. The pictures, the pictures his brother drew, were dark and angry. The figures sketched on the torn up pages resembled Will. They were sad and hateful. Each one had the face scribbled out, but he could still see the distorted, exaggerated features of his little brother under the erratic graphite markings used to hide them. He felt himself let out a stifled gasp. The sheer amount of rage present in these pages shocked him. He was scared, scared of whatever Will wasn’t telling him. He wanted to cry, he wanted to run over to his brother’s side and shake him awake and hold him. He wanted to tell him he loved him and he wasn’t alone. But Jonathan knew it would only drive Will away, that his brother hated being coddled. And so he knew he’d have to hold it in, that he’d have to pretend that he never saw the self-loathing filled drawings that Will never intended him to see. Jonathan had to let it out somehow, he’d have to tell someone. But he couldn’t risk losing Will’s trust if he found out.

Jonathan carefully taped the sketches back together, trying to salvage them. He knew he shouldn’t, but part of him wanted to preserve the evidence. He wanted proof that something was going on with Will, something physical he could share with his mom. Maybe it could help? Maybe there was something in these images that could give him answers. As he stitched the pieces back together he began to notice things he didn’t quite see before; words scrawled hastily that Will had attempted to erase. Words that were barely visible under the dim desk lamp. Jonathan tried to make them out, but they were illegible. He strained his eyes, holding the paper closer to the light. _STUPID, STUPID, STUPID. PUSSY. FAIRY, F-A-G-G-O-T. QUEER._ All words Lonnie had thrown at him. All words Jonathan knew the kids at school called his little brother. It left him with a sinking feeling in his gut and he felt a surge of guilt and sadness rush through him. He felt awful. He felt so angry with himself that he couldn’t protect Will from words. Words sting. They wound and stick with you, even if they’re untrue. Jonathan knew that better than anyone. He had always told Will that being different was okay, that he didn’t have to be like everyone else. He knew that was true, he knew it in his heart, but other people didn’t see that truth. That’s why Jonathan loved photography, because he could capture that reality, even if the subjects tried to hide it. He knew that’s why his brother loved to draw and play D&D, because even in fantasy being yourself is the biggest truth. It hurt him to know that people used his brother’s innocence, his kindness, his differences against him. He didn’t know how to fix that. Will wasn’t a little kid anymore and he couldn’t distract him with games or movies or pillow forts and popcorn. Jonathan couldn’t make him open up, he couldn’t make Will happy despite his best efforts. He wanted nothing more than to see Will give a genuine smile, one that lasted more than a few seconds. He wanted him to laugh, to enjoy his friends and be an uninhibited, reckless fourteen year old like he should be.

He couldn’t hold back the tears, he couldn’t keep pretending to be strong. He told himself it was okay to cry, it was okay to be upset. He would never do this in front of Will, but he didn’t have to worry about that right now. He could take a moment to sit in his sadness. He knew Will wouldn’t wake up anytime soon and he guiltily relished in that fact. He breathed a prolonged sigh, letting the tension ease from his body before refocusing on the drawings. He studied them again, each time he hoped to find something new, to find another clue as to why Will had been so distant, but he couldn’t. Every time he looked they were exactly the same. He dragged his hand over his face, trying to come to terms with the confusing illustrations before him. He resigned himself to the possibility that there was nothing more he could glean by sitting there. He stacked the papers neatly into a pile, intending to take them in secret. He leaned over to shut off the lamp when he noticed scraps he hadn’t before. Some where behind the bin, others inside. He knew he shouldn’t fish them out, but he couldn’t help himself, he’d already gone too far with the others. He carefully gathered the pieces and arranged them on the desk. This drawing took much longer to decipher. It was more complex, more detailed. Jonathan taped each fragment as he figured out new sections, revealing what appeared to be a grassy hill. He continued to reassemble until he taped the last piece into place. On the page before him stood two boys standing atop a hill under the stars holding hands. Jonathan studied the drawing carefully. The boy on the right was definitely Will, he could tell by the haircut, even if it was from the back. The other boy looked familiar… but he wasn’t sure who he was from behind. The hair was slightly curly. _Maybe Dustin?_ He thought. But no, he was too lanky, too tall. He stared a moment longer before it hit him. _Mike_. The boy on the left was Mike Wheeler.

Jonathan was confused. _Why did he rip this up? Why did he throw it away?_ The sketch was good. _Really good._ It was highly detailed with a slight innocence to it. It made Jonathan smile. Will and Mike. Best friends since kindergarten, brothers in arms, practically inseparable. _Did they get into a fight? Did something happen?_ Jonathan disregarded the thought. There was no way that could be it. They’d been so happy to see each other tonight. Will had a _real_ smile whenever Mike was around. _Then why was this in the trash? What’s wrong with this picture? Why didn’t he like it?_ And then a new string of thoughts entered his mind. The other drawings… But why? He thought harder, thought about the crossed out faces, thought about the anger, the words. _The words! STUPID, PUSSY, FAGGOT, QUEER… faggot… queer._ He felt a lump form in his throat. This is the reason. This is why he ripped it up. Everything became clearer now. I’m _a freak… Mike never has time for me anymore… I’ll never fall in love._ It all started making sense. Will _was_ hiding something and now Jonathan knew why. It made him feel sick. It left him with a horrible knot in his stomach. Not because his brother liked boys, but because his brother could never be himself. That the world would always be against him. That Will had to hide and be afraid. _He must hate himself. God he must be so confused and alone._ Jonathan wanted so badly to to hug him and tell him it would be okay, that he loved him and nothing would change that. But he knew in his heart that he couldn’t. He knew Will would never forgive him or that he’d lie and be defensive and withdraw even more. He knew that he would only make things worse. He wanted to be there for his little brother, to protect him like he’d tried to for the past six years, but he knew it was an unrealistic expectation. Will _would_ struggle. He’d be in constant opposition to what the world expected him to be and it wasn’t a choice. It would hurt him and there was nothing he could do. It hurt him tonight. It landed him in the hospital and it would continue to hurt him long after these wounds healed. Jonathan wiped the tears from his eyes. He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe that what happened that afternoon was because of who his brother was, was because of something he couldn’t change. It disgusted him that someone would inflict such violent hatred onto a _kid_ , it didn’t matter why _. It was wrong._ Will didn’t deserve this. His brother was kind, smart, _innocent_. Jonathan made himself a promise. No matter what he would love Will. No matter what he would look out for him, he would protect him. He would act like he didn’t know a god damn thing and treat Will the same, that he’d stop babying him. But Jonathan wouldn’t stop giving a shit and he wouldn’t stop throwing Will a life line. He decided he’d keep this a secret. He wouldn’t show his mom after all. He couldn’t betray Will’s trust.


	7. People are People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is looking forward to some much needed fun with his friends, but it unfortunately doesn’t last long before his own thoughts get the better of him... and so does something, or someone, else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your support and feedback! It means so much to me and is super validating 💜💜💜 This chapter took me a little bit, I partied too hard 2 weekends ago and slept. A lot. And then I Had a bad case of vertigo and I slept some more...But here it is— and it’s pretty long. Content warning: again time period typical homophobia, slurs, internalized homophobia, and some suicidal ideation, and mentions of abuse, as well as targeted violence. I feel so bad that I keep torturing poor Will—This has a happy ending, I swear!!!
> 
> The song this chapter is “People are People” by the Depeche Mode
> 
> It's obvious you hate me  
> Though I've done nothing wrong  
> I never even met you  
> So what could I have done  
> I can't understand  
> What makes a man  
> Hate another man  
> Help me understand  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________________

The morning smelled of Aunt Jemima’s and perfectly crispy bacon. Will laid in his bad, relishing in the lazy summer sun peaking through his blinds. Sleep had taken him fast last night and he hardly remembered the car ride home, but he didn’t care. He was glad the events of yesterday were behind him. He rolled onto his side, curling into his blankets just a little bit longer. His body craved bedrest, but the tempting offer of much needed arcade time and a desperately wanted d&d campaign proposed by his friends sounded far more enticing. He sighed a deep, relieved breath as he contemplated whether he should stay tucked beneath the covers— if only for a minute more. Just as he came to the decision that pancakes and time with the party sounded better than sleeping the day away he heard the door creaking open. A cautious Joyce peered beyond the frame, a small smile curling onto her lips with the realization her boy was awake. Safe and sound. She approached the bed, stepping gingerly around his discarded clothes and shoes littering the floor. Will was usually pretty neat, keeping his room in relative order. Joyce never really had to remind him to tidy up, he had always done so on his own, but over the past few weeks he’d let his room get rather messy. She didn’t mind though, he’d been in a rut lately and she would be damned if she didn’t let him off the hook a bit. He was a teenage boy after all. As she sat on the edge of his bed she leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, gently pushing his hair as she tried to avoid fresh stitches.

“Hey sweetie.” Her tone was warm and comforting. “How’re you feeling?”

Will felt his shoulders tense slightly. It was purely instinctual, he hadn’t meant to come across as nervous or uncomfortable.

“I’m okay— better. Better than yesterday.” He smiled, trying to reassure his mom that _yes, everything is fine._

“Jonathan’s making blueberry pancakes special. Just for you. He thought he’d surprise you. I know they’re your favorite.”

Will couldn’t help but grin. Jonathan always thought of him, was always taking care of him. _You know you’re really lucky. You’re really lucky to have Jonathan._

“Sounds great. I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”

“Alright, honey, I’ll have a plate waiting.”

Joyce nodded, a closed lipped smile reappearing as she squeezed her son’s hand before giving him a few moments of privacy. Will breathed a sigh of relief. He was happy to be home, happy to lay in the comfort of his own bed, happy not to think about anything other than breakfast, happy to finally _want_ to eat. He’d been such a nervous wreck lately that he could barely get through a meal without feeling at least slightly queasy. He felt a tinge of guilt rising up inside. His mom worked so hard, so hard to provide for him and his brother and he’d been too paranoid to appreciate her. He could kick himself for being so self focused and yet he couldn’t help it. The fear of being found out was so heavy, so overwhelming. His anxieties were all encompassing and totally and absolutely founded. Yesterday’s beating was a testament to that. It was a reminder of the fact that he absolutely _should_ be afraid. _After all Will, there are consequences to being a faggot._ He lowered his head into his hands, cupping his cheeks he tried to relax. Will dragged his fingers down his face past his jaw, eventually dropping his arms to rest at his sides. _Pull yourself together. It’s over… for now._ He took a sharp inhale before pushing himself off the bed and toward the door. It was time to face Jonathan and his mom and pretend that the world wasn’t falling apart around him. At least he could indulge in some pancakes for a while, drowning out his disquieting thoughts with excessive amounts of maple syrup.

As Will made his way to the kitchen he could hear the muted sounds of Jonathan singing along to music. _Badly_. He laughed to himself. Jonathan may have great taste, but he couldn’t sing to save his life. Will felt himself sigh, eyes rolling as he prepared for for one of the few times he could ever feel embarrassed by his family… When Jonathan danced around the kitchen in his socks and underwear screaming along to some song Will didn’t entirely know. And yet he relished in those moments. He cherished the times when his brother danced and sung like nobody, like he _thought_ nobody, was watching. He could replay those moments forever, instances when Jonathan let lose and didn’t act all tough and hyper vigilant. That’s the brother Will liked best. He was so grateful for every god awfully embarrassing memory they shared. His smile grew wider as he approached the table, remembering how he and Jonathan would play The Clash as loud as they could when Joyce wasn’t home. How they’d jump on the bed and hit each other with pillows as they yelled the words at the top of their lungs. They were some of Will’s favorites, the times where he felt safest. He’d lost track of how many times his brother had done that for him, had made him feel _safe_. Jonathan just had a way of _understanding_ him, a way of making him feel wanted, appreciated, and loved. That was something Lonnie was never capable of giving him and it made Will sad, mournful even. It left a heavy ache in his heart that he was constantly trying to fill and even though he knew nothing really could, Jonathan’s kindness came incredibly close. And so Will continued to smile a cheesy, way too cheerful grin as he took his seat and watched his brother dance wildly to something by Smiths.

 _“I would go out tonight_  
_But I haven't got a stitch to wear_  
_This man said it's gruesome_  
_That someone so handsome should care"_

Will let out a small laugh between his fingers, eyeing his brother as he carefully flipped pancakes onto a plate. Jonathan’s shoulders stiffened a little, his usual seriousness returning momentarily as he turned to look behind him. As his gaze met Will’s his posture dropped and his eyes softened, a warm smile curling onto his lips.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Will beamed.

“I- uh, yeah. I guess I am… but it’s only ‘cause I’m making you pancakes, bud.” Jonathan shot back, only slightly flustered.

“Thanks, Jonathan. You didn’t have to… I really appreciate it.” And he did. He sincerely, wholeheartedly appreciated his brother. And breakfast, but that was an added bonus.

Jonathan handed a warm pancake laden plate to his brother, heat radiating into Will’s hand as he took hold. He could stay like this forever; lazy summer mornings, carefree and simple. Will liked simple. Simple was steady, assured, predictable. Simple meant not worrying about what might happen or the possibility of divulging his inner most feelings to all of Hawkins, Indiana. He was right where he wanted to be and he wouldn’t change that for the world, but he knew it couldn’t last forever and so he returned to his breakfast. He sat in the kitchen, drizzling artificial syrup all over the stack of pancakes before him, enjoying being a kid just a little while longer. Will eyed his brother carefully, studying the subtle bob of his head as he danced to the now silent tune. He admired him. Jonathan wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t scared of what other people thought or worried about what they might say behind his back. Jonathan was just Jonathan and he was perfectly content being an outcast, a rebel, a freak. _Freak_. That word sat heavy in Will’s stomach, it dragged him down by the ankles and into a dark pit. A lot of words did that to him lately. He tried not to dwell on the sinking feeling deep in his gut. He tried so hard to just enjoy simplicity for once, but the malaise washed over him again and with it came the nausea he thought he’d finally avoided. Will swallowed hard, pushing down the half chewed food with a much too large gulp of milk before forcing himself to take another bite. He had to let his family know he _was_ grateful, he _was_ appreciative of all their sacrifices and love. He _needed_ them to know that. He needed to communicate it at all costs, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.

As he shoveled the food into his mouth Will caught Joyce out of the corner of his eye. She searched briefly for her keys before kissing Jonathan on the cheek, heading to her shift at Melvald’s. Will didn’t know why, but the sight of her leaving made him feel almost empty inside. His heart hurt. He didn’t want her to go and yet he desperately wanted her to disappear. Will was torn between wanting the comfort he so greatly desired and the solitude he thought would make things easier. While this silent war waged within him he remained outwardly collected, looking just the right amount dejected that Joyce had to work. Will had become quite good at pretending recently and was damn well pleased that he was able to keep this dangerous charade going, even if it would be for the rest of his life— if he could make it that long with out the possibility of a catastrophic explosion, casualties; one Will Byers. Once more he swallowed hard before Joyce made her way toward him, the exact same exchange about to take place. He braced himself for the concerned eyes of his mother, for her gentle smile that made him falter under pressure. He made the first move, shooting her a cheerful, albeit, forced grin that he hoped would alleviate the unease she carried with her. Joyce regarded him fondly, pulling him into a gentle, yet tight hug before kissing him on the crown of his head. She paused for a moment before making one last request and heading out the door.

“I know you’re going to the arcade, Will… and I trust you, I do. It’s just that…” Her voice trailed off. Will knew where this was going.

“You don’t trust other people.” He sighed. “Don’t worry I’ll be home by 8 and if anything happens I’ll call you at work or Jonathan. I’ll be fine mom, really.” He hated how much she worried about him, but he knew she couldn’t help it and there was reason to worry. Trouble always seemed to find him.

With Will’s reassurance and another kiss planted on her son’s cheek, Joyce headed out the door and drove off to town in her green Pinto. Will breathed a sigh of relief. He was grateful to have the day to himself and his friends. No anxiety addled adults breathing down his neck with their plethora of concerns, no guilt on his part from rousing worry; just a day to goof off and pretend that summer could last forever and he was a regular fourteen year old. He could feel the excitement building inside him. Today would be _normal_. Today would be the reprieve he so desperately craved. Will hated to admit it, but he was jealous of his friends and how they had adjusted to growing up, even just a little. He wished he could go through his teens without waking up in a cold sweat from nightmares that he _shouldn’t_ be having. He wanted to erase the past two years and start over. He wanted to forget all the horrible things that happened to him even if it was just for one day. He knew that deep down his friends would never truly understand. How could they? None of them were dragged into another dimension, forced to survive in what could only be described as hell for a week, none of them had been possessed— their bodies and minds acting in complete opposition to their every thought, for all he knew none of them had dads that beat them or moms who worked all the time, and none of them, none of them were _gay_.

Will picked mindlessly at his breakfast until he reached the last few bites. His stomach was full, or maybe he was still nauseous, but he felt bad leaving anything on the plate. Jonathan had made these for _him_ after all. He thought it seemed ungrateful not to finish so he forced down the last few mouthfuls before clearing his plate to the sink. He turned the faucet, waiting for the water to get warm enough when he heard Jonathan’s voice carrying from the table.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up. I’ll get it, okay? Go have fun with your friends. I don’t mind.” He smiled as he brought a forkful of pancakes to his mouth.

“I—are you sure? I can do it. You already made everything…” Will trailed off. _Damn it, stop feeling so guilty about everything._

He opened his mouth to speak, but the phone rang before any sound could escape. The brothers looked at each other, both seemed expectant as if each of them was anticipating a call.

“It’s probably Nancy…” Will sounded dejected almost.

Jonathan flashed a warm smile. “Or Mike?”

The two stared at each other a moment longer before realizing one of them needed to pick up the phone.

“You get it.” Jonathan yielded, a small laugh escaping as he raised his hands in a display of surrender.

Will sheepishly nodded, his heart beating faster as he approached the wall. He paused briefly, hand twitching as it hovered above the phone. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, all he had to do was pick it up. And yet answering whoever was on the other end suddenly seemed overwhelming. He swallowed hard before picking up, pushing down the last of his nerves.

“He—Hello?” His voice was unintentionally shaky.

“Hey, Will!” Mike’s cheerful tone escaped through the ear piece. “We’re all gonna meet around 10:30 if you’re still up for it?”

Will could feel his stomach doing flips, butterflies swarming inside his chest. He tried to speak, but his mouth suddenly felt so dry. _Why are you like this every time it’s just you and him? God, just fucking answer._

“I— uh… Yeah. Totally. I’ll see you guys there.” Thank god something came out.

“Awesome! Can’t wait to kick your ass in Dragon’s Lair. Or we can play something else if you want… your pick.” Will could practically hear him smiling.

“No, Dragon’s Lair is perfect. And _I’m_ gonna be the one kicking your butt, Mike.” He felt a smile of his own curling across his lips.

“See you soon, Will! Don’t forget to bring your dice, we’re playing the new campaign after!”

“I won’t! I’ll see you guys soon.”

The distinctive click of the receiver hanging up echoed in Will’s ear. He felt genuinely happy. He held the phone a moment longer before hanging it back on the wall. His heart was still racing, but now it was entirely different. It was _excitement_. He turned to face Jonathan, his brother cocking an eyebrow suspiciously. Will felt awkward, he didn’t know exactly what to do or say, only that he wanted to get ready and hop on his bike as fast as he could. He wanted to be at the arcade already.

“Do you want a ride? It’ll get you there faster?” Jonathan could sense his anticipation.

Will mulled it over for a moment before coming to his answer.

“That’s okay. I’ll ride over. We’re going to Mike’s after anyway, it would be weird if I was the only one walking.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind I’m not gonna offer again.” He teased, knowing full well Will wouldn’t take the bait.

Will smirked before racing off to his room. He chucked his pajamas off, quickly sliding into shorts and and a polo. He rushed through his morning routine, hastily brushing his teeth—though he did all two minutes it was more intense than usual. As he tugged on his converse, almost ready to head out, he remembered his dice bag was still resting on his desk. He let out an audible groan, annoyed with himself for being overeager and absentminded. Pushing himself off the carpet Will raced back to his room, swinging his door a little too forcefully as excitement ran through him. He approached the desk, reaching for the overstuffed, hand-sewn pouch sitting just under his lamp when something caught his eye. He hadn’t noticed it this morning, hell he hadn’t paid attention in a few days, but he _knew_ , he _knew_ he hadn’t taken out the trash in his room. And yet the bin sat empty, no trace of the torn up sketches he’d made in his spiteful haze. He swallowed hard, panic welling up inside. _They had to be there, they had to_. He dropped to his hands and knees, frantically searching beneath his desk, behind it, and under his bed. In an anxious frenzy Will shook the trash, turning it upside down in desperate hopes that _something_ would fall out. But it was empty. He felt his hands tremble as he set the bin down, the anxiety craving a physical relief. He tried not to panic, he tried to remain calm, but everything he told himself was met with an insidious rebuttal. _Maybe mom just cleaned up? Maybe she didn’t look? Maybe you just don’t remember throwing it out? No… no she had to have seen. Mom’s always butting in, she’s always too involved. Of course she’d look! God Will, you’re so fucking stupid!_ He could feel himself hyperventilating, his face and hands growing clammy. He gripped the top of the desk, his fingers tightening around the lip as he dragged himself off the ground. He needed to get out of here. He needed to pretend everything was fine, that there wasn’t a possibility that his mom or Jonathan knew his deepest darkest secret. Will swore he was absolutely and entirely fucked.

The floorboards creaked in the hallway, alerting Will that he wouldn’t be alone much longer. _Jonathan_. He braced himself against the desk, trying to collect his thoughts before his brother inevitably checked up on him. Just as he began to calm down he heard Jonathan rap his knuckles against the door frame.

“Everything okay, bud?” His voice was only slightly concerned. He didn’t want Will to feel as if he was babying him.

“I— yeah. Just forgot my dice.” He shook the bag gently, as if it was a prize trophy on display. He put on his most convincing fake smile before shoving the rest of his belongings into a well worn back pack.

Jonathan smiled back at him, his own only half convincing. He drummed his fingers lazily against the wood.

“Have fun with your friends, yeah? Don’t get into too much trouble!” He teased.

“Don’t worry, Mom’ll have to drag me away from the Wheeler’s.” Will shot back before giving Jonathan a long, tight hug.

After bidding his brother goodbye Will raced out the door and made his way to his bike. As he straddled the seat he pulled out his super com, radioing anyone in the party who might be listening.

“This is Will, just leaving now. Over.” He waited several moments before a crackle sputtered through the ear piece.

“Copy that. See you soon. Over.” And just like that Lucas’s voice disappeared into the static.

With the knowledge his friends were in route to the arcade Will pushed off into the late July morning. He was happy to be out of the house, to get away from the confines of his room. Over the past few months it became a place of torment rather than refuge, a place where he seemed to stew in his anxiety rather than escape it. Right now he needed an escape and that was playing video games and delving into a world of fantasy. The best Will could ever hope for was an escape. He didn’t want to face reality; the reality of growing up, the reality of being misunderstood, of being left behind, _of being gay_. He felt his fingers tighten around his handlebars, tension building up just beneath the surface. _Not now. Let it go. That doesn’t matter right now, dumb ass. Enjoy your summer._ He sighed, breath escaping slowly in the humid summer air. He wanted to be at the arcade already, to be with his friends, but the ride was taking too long for his liking and he knew dwelling on shit he couldn’t change would only make the stretch of road seem miles longer. He picked up his speed, despite how much it hurt his ribs as he inhaled to keep up with the velocity. The doctor _did_ tell him he’d cracked a few ribs. _You’re supposed to take it easy!_ He rolled his eyes as he imagined Joyce reprimanding him. The pain would stop eventually and in no time he’d be kicking Mike’s ass in Dragon’s Lair. Or maybe beating Max’s Dig Dug score… well maybe not that, but a kid could dream, right? Just as the ache in his chest began to become too much Will caught the arcade in his sights and the row of familiar bikes carefully parked out front. _Finally_. He felt a huge, probably goofy grin spread ear to ear as he approached the bike rack. He could see his friends waiting just beyond the glass door, up to their usual bickering. He couldn’t help but find it a soothing sight. Will enjoyed time spent with them, even if it was filled with impassioned arguments for what film to watch or which game to play. That was the way they’d always been and he wouldn’t change it for anything. 

The distinctive chime of the door opening alerted the party to his presence. Plucked from their friendly argument, they turned their attention toward Will. Eager smiles greeted him, a sense of relief shared among them. He couldn’t help but smile back. He was delighted to see them, all of them. He cautiously studied them behind the guise of his grin, trying to parse out what might be going through their minds, but they all seemed genuinely glad to see him, not a hint of pity for him to find. He felt himself relax as his eyes met Mike’s. Classic smirk plastered in place, he draped his arm around Will’s shoulder.

“Good to see you’re only slightly battered, Will. Glad you made it.”

“Yeah, I’m still shocked your mom let you out!” Lucas added before Max glared at him, elbowing his side. He had to admit it was slightly disrespectful.

Will laughed. He definitely agreed with Lucas. His mom could absolutely be overprotective, but he would never say it so bluntly. He returned his attention to Mike, hugging him back, hoping his best friend wouldn’t see the blush creeping across his cheeks. He wanted this moment to last just a little bit longer, just the two of them. He swallowed hard, hoping he wasn’t being too obvious before he noticed that El had caught him in her sights. She offered him a gentle smile, reaching out her hand for him to hold. It was a sweet, kind gesture, full of love and understanding. He begrudgingly slid out from under the warmth Mike’s arm and into a tight hug from El. He winced slightly under the pressure, his ribs screaming out for the hug to end, but Will didn’t want it too. He felt safe. El noticed his discomfort and loosened her grip a little. She was always intuitive. She pulled away, holding Will by his biceps as she studied his face. Her eyes grew concerned as she saw his stitches and bruises in the daylight, but she didn’t want Will to think she pitied him. She was just worried. She honestly cared and that meant so much to him, more than words could say and so he didn’t speak.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Her voice was quiet and soft, she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Yeah, me too.” A small laugh escaped and blended into the noise of the arcade.

“Come on, Will! Dragon’s Lair is waiting and I know I’m gonna beat your ass this time.” Mike nudged before belting out “Race ya!” As he disappeared into the depths of the gaming consoles.

Will and El looked at each other, bursting into a simultaneous giggle fit. Mike had that effect on them. The party made their way to their respective games, pairing off so they could battle each other, hoping to knock the other down a peg or two. Max, Dustin, and Lucas had rushed off to Dig Dug, Lucas determined to beat his girlfriend’s high score while El trailed after Mike and Will. As Mike inserted his carefully saved up coins El rested her chin on his shoulder, ready to observe their game play and probably beat both of them after watching a round or two. Mike arched an eyebrow, his cocky smirk appearing once more before egging on Will’s competitive side— that or he was trying to impress Eleven. Either way Will felt butterflies beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he should try to impress Mike, though he knew it would never have the same effect he had on El. Will tried to hide the twinge of jealousy that rattled through him, channeling it into friendly competition, but he kept stealing glances at his best friend. His scores were terrible, reflecting how truly distracted he was. He couldn’t blame Mike for gloating, those numbers were abysmal. Will tried to laugh about it, playing it off as a case of head trauma— jokingly of course. El rolled her eyes. She hated it when Mike got cocky, but she didn’t despise it entirely. Both she and will couldn’t help but find it endearing at times. They both knew Mike had the tendency to be a shit stirrer, it was the type of things lots of stupid teenagers find attractive; disregarding authority.

As the respective ‘teams’ winded down their competitions and compared scores, their conversations drifted off into talk of getting something to eat. It was nearing lunchtime after all and they were all growing adolescents. They were _sure_ their moms wouldn’t mind if they spent a little extra. Once more they argued among themselves, debating whether they should go to the diner, get some greasy cheese fries and hotdogs from the drive in down the street, or skip lunch altogether and get ice cream. Will groaned, he hated when they couldn’t agree, even though he’d never say anything. He didn’t really want any of those things, but he wasn’t about to complain. He’d rather go along with whatever everyone else wanted. After several minutes of arguing Dustin came to a solution that might make everyone happy.

“Why don’t we do the drive in? It’s got everything we all want? Burgers, fries, hotdogs, and ice cream?”

“Sounds good to me.” Mike chimed in. “What do you guys think?”

“Yeah, I could go for a coke float… you wanna share?” Lucas turned to Max, puppy dog eyes begging her to comply.

She sighed, eyes rolling as she reluctantly agreed with him. “Yeah, sure.”

Will and El both agreed, they didn’t want to be difficult. So the party headed out, ignoring Keith as they left. Once again he was begging Mike to get him a date with Nancy. They couldn’t help but laugh to themselves as they hopped on their bikes and headed down to the drive in. Keith was so desperate, it was kind of sad. He _had_ to know he had no chance and yet he was so persistent. Will felt though he was the only one in the group he sort of understood him. He knew what it was like to have feelings for someone you had absolutely no chance with, but Will wasn’t stupid enough to try to win him over. Will had a good reason not to be stupid. He looked back at the sad arcade manager before following his friends down the road. It left him feeling sort of empty inside, but he pushed the thought out of his mind the minute it entered. Will didn’t want to dwell on shit like that today, today he wanted to relish in being young and dumb. He could afford dumb. As his thoughts centered on the sorry sap that was Keith, Will heard tires coming to a halt. He looked up from the ground to see his friends parking their bikes before running off to the window. He sighed before stationing his own and sprinting to catch up. He skidded to a halt behind El, her hand clasped gently in Mike’s as she studied the menu. Will eyed her carefully. He could feel the unmistakable twinge of envy rising up again, threatening to spill out into the world. He tried to choke it back down, focusing on what he was going to order, but his mind kept wandering back to the two of them. His hands itched to hold Mike’s. _He_ wanted to rest his head on his shoulder; to ride on the back of his bike, arms wrapped around him tight. He wanted to be the one he shared his fries with, the one that teasingly stole sips of his milkshake, the one who playfully planted kisses on his cheek, planted kisses on his lips. Will was absolutely disgusted by his own thoughts. He felt dirty and wrong, like he wanted to crawl out of his skin and scrub it until it was raw. He hated how he couldn’t stop wishing, how he couldn’t stop wanting. It pained him, it made him feel like he was sinking into the bottom of the ocean, like he would drown. The more the thoughts came the more Will wanted to disappear. The more he wanted to die.

Just as Will felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into the dark pit welling up inside him he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. It was El, she was saying something but he couldn’t make out the words, his ears were pulsing from the anxiety and the only thing he could hear was the beating of his heart. He blinked vigorously before words began to sound cohesive.

“Will? Do you want anything?”

Words left his lips, but he couldn’t remember what he’d said. It didn’t matter at this point. He didn’t feel much like eating anyway. He made his way over to a deserted picnic table, trying desperately to collect himself. Despite how much he had wanted to be with his friends he couldn’t help but feel as if it would’ve been better to stay home. Everyone was standing around the counter coupled up or engrossed in conversations he wasn’t a part of. Even though he was surrounded by his friends, even though he should be having fun, he felt so incredibly alone. Will felt lost, as if he was always on the outskirts, never truly a part of the action. It pained him to think he was an after thought. _It would be better if you just disappeared… no one would miss you._ But deep down part of him knew it wasn’t true. He knew how upset his mom and Jonathan would be. He knew his friends would miss him, that _Mike_ would miss him. But he couldn’t stop the thought that maybe it would make everyone’s lives easier if he didn’t exist, if he didn’t burden them with his presence. As he wallowed in his anxieties a tanned, bracelet sporting arm pushed a plate of cheese fries in front of him. He looked up, meeting El’s gaze. There was kindness in her eyes. She _wanted_ to join him. He glanced beyond her for a moment, watching as the rest of the party goofed around, engrossed in some sort of banter too deep into for Will to comprehend. He felt El’s hand clasp around his, giving it a gentle squeeze. She was throwing him an out and he would be an idiot not to take it. He smiled up at her, gratitude woven into his expression. He was grateful for the escape.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just feel kind of off still… Yesterday really messed with me, you know? I feel kinda out of it.” He frowned, afraid to look he in the eye.

“Will.” She was blunt. He was afraid he knew where this was going. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay.”

“I— I am. I will be. I promise.” It was hardly convincing.

He absentmindedly picked at the fries in front of him, trying to avoid talking about the fear that plagued him. The last thing he needed was El interrogating him, _Mike’s girlfriend interrogating him_. He looked at her briefly before changing the subject, he needed to steer her away from topics surrounding _him_.

“You know you can talk to me. I won’t say anything. I promise.” Her smile was weaker this time. It made Will feel guilty. He couldn’t keep lying to her.

“Okay…” He trailed off. “I— I’ve just been sort of miserable this whole summer.” He felt his expression drop. _Stop talking, Will. Fucking stop._

She frowned, brows furrowing closer together as she stared at him, concern swimming in her eyes. A small “Oh…” left her lips before Will decided to tell her _something_ at least.

“It’s just that… everyone has girlfriends now and it sucks. Not that you suck— I don’t mean it like that. This isn’t coming out right… What I mean is that Mike, Lucas, Dustin and I have been friends forever— Mike and me since kindergarten and we’ve all always done everything together and now they all have girlfriends and I don’t and they spend all their time talking about it or hanging out with you or Max… and I’m just— I just…” He rambled.

“Feel left out?” She inferred.

“Yes! Yes, I feel like I don’t matter anymore! It’s not fair. I’m their friend and all they’ve done is ignore me and I hate it. I hate that we don’t hang out as much, that all they care about is kissing and going on dates and dancing with you guys at the stupid snowball! I just want things to go back to how they were before…”

“Before me?” There was a sadness in her voice. Will suddenly felt overwhelmed with guilt. He didn’t want to hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted. And yet he knew he’d done just that.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I want you around. I want them to have girlfriends… I just want them to make time for me, too. I don’t want them to forget about me.” He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He desperately wanted them to stop. _He_ wanted to stop, but the floodgates were open and neither the tears nor the words could be held back at this point.

El squeezed his hand. Despite the anger in Will’s tone, she knew it wasn’t about her. She knew there was something buried beneath the surface that had been eating away at him for a while now, probably long before she came into the picture. She didn’t want to press it, but she could see what it was doing to Will and it pained her. She wanted so badly to help him, to give him a sense of relief.

“Will. Your secret… it’s safe with me. Whatever it is, I promise I won’t tell.”

Will couldn’t control the expression that crept across his face. It was sheer panic. _She can see right through you. She knows. She fucking knows._

“I… It’s hard to explain. You say you understand, but you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like.” His voice cracked, sticking in his throat as the words came out. “You don’t know what it’s like for all of your friends to leave you behind and grow up while you’re still stuck. You don’t know how it feels to be left out like that… or to like someone who’ll _never_ like you back… who _can’t_ like you back. How shitty it is to see them with someone else and not be able to tell your friends how much it sucks because they’d laugh at you… or _worse_. I’m jealous _okay_? I’m jealous that the rest of the party gets to be normal and I’m stuck here, afraid of growing up. None of them have to deal with being called zombie boy all the time or having people laugh at you and kick the shit out of you because of something you can’t control. None of their moms treat them like they’ll break at any moment. None of them understand how lonely and isolating all this shit has been. And I’m tired… I’m tired of being alone.” The tears were silent, red rimmed eyes the only sign of his distress. He’d gotten much better at controlling his emotions.

El stared at him for a moment, tears of her own forming in the corners of her eyes. Her heart hurts. She had no idea he was holding all of this in. She didn’t know how heavy this weighed on him. She wanted to hug him. To hold him tight and tell him she understood, but Will was right. She didn’t. She couldn’t. They didn’t have the same experiences, but she knew she absolutely one hundred percent cared and would be damned if she didn’t let Will know somehow. She couldn’t find the right words no matter how hard she tried, so she just sat with him. She held his hand and sat in silence as he let the tears roll down his cheeks. She noticed how he studied his friends, how he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. She felt guilty, she was angry with herself for not noticing sooner. How could she have been so oblivious. She sighed, squeezing his hand tight as he tried to smile back at her. He could feel himself staring at Mike, watching him longingly. He couldn’t help it. He was absolutely infatuated. He wanted so badly to stop, to be able to look at El or Max or any other girl and feel what he felt for Mike, but it was impossible. He could feel El’s eyes on him, practically boring into his soul. Will was uneasy, unsure what to do next. All he could think to do was turn his attention toward Eleven in hopes they could change the subject, that she could snap him out of whatever sick joke was being played on him by a god he wasn’t even sure was real. His eyes darted toward the table as he tried to gather his words, any words. But nothing came to mind. The only thing that pulled him away was El’s voice, low and soothing in his ears.

“Will…” She paused. Fear gripped her as she prepared her next sentence. She wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to say, actually she was sure it wasn’t, but something inside told her to say it anyway. She couldn’t hold it back anymore. She needed to confront him, not accuse him. No, she needed him to be honest. Deep down she was sure he wanted to be, too.

“Will. I see the way you look at Mike.”

Will felt as if he was going to throw up. No, pass out. The world around him began to blur and time moved as if he was in slow motion. _You’ve done it now, Will. Congratulations, faggot, now everyone will know. It’s all over. You’re fucked. Have fun dealing with the fallout… or don’t. You could always kill yoursel—_

“I— I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…”

“Friends don’t lie.” Just as the words left her mouth Mike slid in next to her, draping his arm over El’s shoulder.

“I got you a coke, I know you said you didn’t want one, but—” He looked at Will, his face was sheet white and panicked. Mike felt a wealth of concern rising up inside his chest, but he knew better than to press it. He quickly changed the topic, trying to rope everyone back into having fun. He _needed_ everyone to, he couldn’t bear seeing Will like this. He wasn’t over what happened yesterday, hell he wasn’t over what happened two years ago or the mindflayer. He doubted he’d ever _truly_ be over it.

“Ready to go, guys? We’ve got a wicked campaign ahead of us. Gotta have plenty of time for maximum game play.” He grinned at Will, earning a coveted smile in return. It was a small success but totally worth it.

The party were all in agreement. They gathered their belongings and headed over to the bike rack, ready to head out when the sound of an engine stalling cut through their excited chatter. Car doors slammed shut, making way for an obnoxiously loud group of boys. Frighteningly familiar voices rang in Will’s ears, his body immediately tensing as the sounds echoed around him. _It was them._ Will swallowed hard, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, reminding him of every time he felt the mindflayer. It was haunting. He was frozen, his body unable to move as their voices drew nearer. He prayed they wouldn’t see him, that he and his friends could make a quick getaway. Mike and El turned to face Will, knowing glances exchanged between them. His reaction, the sheer panic that washed over him… _they did it._ They were the ones who brutalized Will. Mike moved to shield Will from their line of sight, hoping he they could make it out of the parking lot unseen, but he knew it was a long shot. As he approached Will he heard the hateful, disgusting words leave Troy’s mouth.

“Hey faggot! Hey Byers I’m talking to you, you fucking queer!”

Will could hear the hatred in his voice, he could feel Mark and Troy’s disdainful eyes locked on him. _This is it, Will. This is how it ends._ He swallowed hard before the string of slurs and mockery filled the parking lot for everyone to hear. He was absolutely mortified. In this moment Will Byers wanted nothing more than to disappear, hell the upside down would be better than this.

Mark’s voice rang out in his ears, crude and insulting. He mocked Will: “please, please stop. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t hurt me! I’m just a little faggot!” His ugly laugh pierced through the silence.

Mike felt an insurmountable rage take over him. His whole body shook and he couldn’t clench his fists tight enough. He was so angry, all he could see was red. _How dare they? How dare they treat Will like shit!_ A furious, violent snarl escaped as he lunged toward them, but he was held back by Lucas and Dustin. They grabbed him, holding him tight. Mike could barely hear what they were saying over the sound of his own pulse beating in his ears. “It’s not worth it, Mike! Let’s just go.” But he couldn’t walk away, he was too angry, too raw.

“What is he your boyfriend Byers? Is Wheeler your little bitch?” Mark’s laugh was hideous, it made Will’s blood boil. He wished he could stop them, but he was paralyzed with fear.

“Please…. Stop. Stop.” Will’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“What’s that faggot? Speak up, I can’t hear you… Suck too many cocks to talk?”

Will couldn’t stop shaking. His knees felt weak beneath him as their taunts continued. He could feel Max and El trying in vain to steady him, but he kept feeling wave after wave of panic until it all came crawling back up and he vomited onto the pavement.

“Oh, fuck. Don’t let him get any on you. You might catch AIDS!”

Everything went white hot, tears blinding Mike’s vision as he broke free of Lucas and Dustin’s grip. He lunged forward, his fist colliding with Mark’s face. Mike’s knuckles began to bleed, he’d caught him right in the mouth, cutting his fingers on his teeth. He didn’t know he could hit that hard. Blood dripped onto the pavement as Mark pulled away, trickling from his mouth and nose. His nose was definitely broken. As he began to assess the damage to his face, Troy ran at Mike, returning the blow. He caught him square in the face, Mike knew he’d have a black eye and fat lip later, but he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was beat the crap out of them, but El yanked him back, pushing him toward his bike. He spit out the blood pooling in his mouth and guided Will to his bike before the party booked it through an alley. They could hear the hurried footsteps of Troy and Mark behind them, gaining too fast for all of their liking. They pedaled as fast as they could, hoping to create some distance between them, but their frenetic pace wouldn’t let up. Perched on the back of Mike’s bike, El looked behind her. She searched frantically for something to block their path, something she could throw at them to buy the party more time. And then she saw it; a large, rusted dumpster just behind the drive in. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before lifting her hand and pouring all of her energy into moving the metal heap. She could feel her hand shaking with the weight, struggling more than usual to make something that heavy move. Warm, wet blood trickled from her nose and her head began pounding as she heard the sound of metal scraping across the blacktop. Before Mark and Troy could gage what was happening, an almost two ton blockade had stopped them from pursuing them any further. As they disappeared into the distance the party could still hear their angry screams, but they were now far behind them as they rushed to the Wheeler’s.

The party rode off into the humid July afternoon, slowing their speed as they put distance between them and those assholes. Will breathed a sigh of relief. _It was over_. He looked at Mike, pangs of guilt rising up inside him as he studied the freshly formed bruises decorating his face. He was grateful that his friends stood up for him, but that didn’t stop the anger and self loathing he felt. This was _his fault_. They were just caught in the crossfires. He felt small and insignificant, like he should’ve just let them beat him again. He couldn’t stop replaying yesterday’s events. It was constant and looping like a zoetrope, projecting gruesome shadows in his mind. He blinked heavy, hot tears away as he caught up to his friends, each of them looked just as panicked as he felt. Mike glanced back at him, flashing a battered smile in solidarity. That smile could melt all of Will’s worries away, it could stop time, and move mountains. That smile was Will’s downfall. He kept thinking about the hateful words thrown at Mike because of him. How they treated Mike _because of him._ Will was furious and yet he was terrified. Everything, everything they said about him was true and now his friends had all heard. _What would they believe? What would they think of you? What’s gonna happen to me?_ His thoughts were ruminating, swirling around in an endless ellipses. He needed to get away, he had to run, but he didn’t know where to go. He looked at Mike one last time before the revving of an engine forced him out of his spiraling state. It was Troy and Mark. They’d caught up to them. It was over, there was no running away. There was nothing any of them could do to stop them.

El turned around, eyes widening in horror as the car drew closer. She had to do something, but there was nothing around that she could throw at them and she wasn’t recovered enough to move a car. She felt Mike pedal faster, but it was no use. The mustang was gaining on them and there was no way they could shake them. The sound of skidding tires rang through the air as a dark blue Camaro did a 180, screeching to a halt in front of the mustang. _It was Billy?_ The party all rolled their bikes to a halt, tires kicking up gravel as they stopped. Each of them knew they should move, they knew this was their chance to get away, but they were all too shocked to leave the scene. Max, El, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike looked on as Billy stepped out of his car, cigarette in hand. He leaned against the hood, cool and collected as he waited for Mark to face him. Max gripped her handlebars tighter. _What the fuck was Billy doing? Why is he here?_ Mark stepped out of his car, keeping his door open as if to shield him from whatever Billy might be planning.

“Well, well, well, Andrews. Funny seeing you here.” Billy flicked his cigarette to the ground, stamping out the butt with the toe of his boot.

“I was ju-just on my way home…” Mark stuttered. _He was afraid of him._

“Save it, Andrews. You pathetic piece of shit. Heather and I saw you at the drive in.” He motioned to Heather Holloway sitting in the passenger’s seat. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing chasing after my sister and her friends? She may be a pain in the ass, but she’s my pain in the ass and if you fuck with her or any of these little shits I _will_ kick your fucking ass. You think me and her didn’t see the shit you pulled at the pool yesterday? You think you could get away with beating some defenseless kid? That’s fucking low.” He spit in Mark’s direction, cracking his knuckles as he stared him down.

“You’ve got it wrong Hargrove… I—”

“You what? You what, you fucking pussy?” Billy practically barked at him. “Do _I got it wrong,_ Maxine?” He turned to his sister.

Max chewed her lip for a moment before collecting herself and projecting her usual confidence.

“Nope, He did it. He’s the one who beat up Will. He’s been chasing us since the drive in.”

“See, Mark. My sister wouldn’t lie to me. Your ass is grass, Andrews.” 

Billy slid over the hood of his car and pulled Mark out from behind his driver’s side door. The party looked on in disbelief as Billy hooked his hand around Mark’s collar and threw him to the ground. He kicked him while he was down, boot pressing firmly onto his chest before he grabbed his collar once more.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister and her friends you mother fucker. Got it?” Billy snarled.

Mark nodded vigorously, too scared to say a word.

“I can’t hear you, Andrews. I said _Got it_!?” He cupped his hand to his ear, mockingly anticipating a reply.

Billy smirked, he had him right where he wanted him. A snide _good_ left his lips before he head butted Mark and straddled him, landing another blow to his face. Today was not Mark Andrew’s day. Just as Billy was about to land another punch, the familiar wail of a siren blared out into the usually quiet street. The patrol car came to a steady stop, being left to idle before Chief Jim Hopper climbed out of the truck.

Billy looked up at the chief, relenting his grip on the junior underneath him and raising his hands in surrender. He picked himself off the ground and dusted himself off before turning to face Jim.

“Just teaching this asshole a lesson, officer.” Billy couldn’t lay off the snark, it wasn’t in his nature.

Jim turned to face the kids, worried eyes scanning their faces. He caught his daughter in his sights, prompting his soft side to emerge.

“Don’t arrest Billy… He saved us…” El piped up. “Those mouth breathers were chasing us.”

“He’s the one who beat up Will!” Mike shouted, anger still laced into his voice.

Hopper adjusted the cuffs on his belt, stepping closer to the now freshly bloodied teen. He grabbed him by the shirt, making sure to be extra rough. He was the chief after all, he could get away with it. He pulled Mark’s arms behind his back, cuffing him forcefully before walking him to the truck.

“You’re in serious trouble… You too, Troy Walsh. Get in the fucking car.”

Troy sheepishly exited the mustang, following the chief’s orders to a tee. The look of sheer panic on his face gave Mike, El, and Hopper way too much satisfaction. Hop looked to Billy, tipping his hat in acknowledgment. He was free to go. A smug, satisfied grin curled onto Billy’s lips as he headed back to the driver’s side. He ducked into the car and pulled his door shut before leaning his elbow out the open window and lighting a fresh cigarette.

“You little shits stay out of trouble. This was a one time deal, got it?”

Max rolled her eyes. She was grateful, they all were, but jeez was he annoying. He blew a final puff of smoke before turning his key in the ignition and pulling back onto the road. The party breathed a collective sigh of relief. It was over, they were all safe. They looked around, making sure each of them was okay. Lucas eyed Max, making sure to hold her hand tight before checking on Dustin. Dustin studied the group of them, giving silent nods in understanding that everyone was alright. El hugged Mike, pulling him in close from behind. She didn’t want to let him go. He squeezed her right back, taking a deep inhale as he finally started to calm down. His eyes met the chief’s whose were suddenly stricken with a look that could only be described as part shock, part confusion. Mike looked around trying to see what Hopper was looking at, but he didn’t see anything. He studied the party carefully before meeting Hop’s gaze once more, the same expression rising in his eyes.

“Where’s Will?” Their voices were in unison, panic riddled and desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Jonathan sings badly to at breakfast is “This Charming Man” by The Smiths. I just thought it was a super Jonathan-esque song... He’s a nice, fun guy, but you wouldn’t know it because he won’t let you... anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, next one will come within the week hopefully ✨


	8. Nocturnal Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will’s gone missing. His friends and family are at their wits end and don’t know where to turn to, but El has a plan and she’s not stopping until she finds him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hi! So I had intended to post this yesterday, but I didn’t quite finish editing— this chapter is loooong. Fair warning, chapter 8 deals with some heavy stuff: intense suicidal ideation, child and spousal abuse, internalized homophobia, and our typical slur mention. I’m so sorry all this has been so negative and depressing— it gets better for him I promise! I know it’s hard to believe, but this story has a happy ending, I swear! 
> 
> The song for this chapter is “Nocturnal Me” by Echo and the Bunnymen. It’s dark and moody— much like this chapter.  
> Do or die  
> What's done is done  
> True beauty lies  
> On the blue horizon  
> Who or why  
> What's one is one  
> In pure disguise  
> Of vulgar sons  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________________

His feet couldn’t pedal fast enough. He needed to get away, to run as far as he could. Will felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over him as the sounds of Mark’s engine grew more and more distant. _How can you leave your friends back there? His hands grasped his handlebars tighter, knuckles blotchy and white. They’re gonna get killed because of you! They’re gonna know the truth and they’re gonna suffer because what? You’re a fucking pussy, Will? Turn around! Turn the fuck around!_ But despite how loud the words screamed inside him, he couldn’t go back. His mind and body were at war and even though Will knew he should stand up for himself, for his friends, his body took over. The fear had become instinctual, overriding any sane or rational thinking. He was being lured by some unseen force, driven purely by the pull of his magnetic paranoia. Will didn’t know where he was going and part of him didn’t care. He just needed to put as many miles between him and those asshole as he could. He could’ve kept riding forever, pedaling his bike until his body gave out, but despite how much he wanted to leave Hawkins, Indiana behind he was even more afraid of what laid beyond smalltown USA. He swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat as it refused to go down. The tension he’d been holding, carrying around for weeks, showed no signs of leaving. His palms were sweating as he struggled to maintain the tightness of his grip, but he refuse to let up on his handlebars. They were the only thing that felt real in that moment, the only thing grounding him in the present. The further his bike took him, the more disconnected his mind became. His thoughts were erratic, racing from one place to another. It seemed impossible to focus, the only thing he could register was the sound of bike tires as they treaded over gravel. _Go. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Get as far away as you can._ He blinked as tears formed in his eyes, threatening to blur his vision. _Go where? Where the hell are you gonna go?_ All he knew was that he needed to go somewhere, somewhere far away where his mind would quiet and the burning ache in his ribs would stop. And so he kept up his pace, despite how much it hurt, riding off to god knows where.

Thunder rumbled in the sky. Dark, heavy clouds rolled overhead as Mike gazed up into the coming storm. _A bad omen_. The thought passed just as quickly as it came before heavy, wet rain drops began to pelt his face. Despite their weight, they didn’t hurt much, just the spots where fresh bruises and cuts had begun to form. It stung a bit as he tilted his gaze toward the street, beads of water rolling down his face. Some clung to his eyelashes, making it difficult to make out the faces of his friends around him. The air was heavy, an anxious atmosphere rising up between them. Mike, El, Dustin, Lucas, and Max stood in silence. It was just them now; no Mark, no Troy, no Billy, no Hopper. No Will. The chief had long since left, driving off to the station to deal with Troy and Mark— whose car was left on the side of the road, windows down and being rushed with water. _Sucks for him, karma’s a bitch._ The four of them exchanged worried glances, unsure of what steps to take next. The realization began to hit them; they were alone. Not physically alone, per say, but the emotional weight each of them carried was an isolating feeling. Now, caught in the midst of a torrential downpour, it was just was them and a long stretch of empty suburban road. Mike swallowed hard, confusion and panic was an obviously shared emotion between them and yet he felt as if none of them truly understood what was going through his mind, what he was feeling. He knew it was stupid to think so, stupid to feel as if his friends didn’t comprehend the anxiety he felt, but he couldn’t help the thoughts from sprouting. Anytime something happened to Will, anytime there was a slight disturbance or hint that he was in danger it sent Mike into spiral of uncontrollable catastrophizing. _It’s just like last time. It’s just like before._ His mind would play the thought over and over until it became to much to bear. He was a prisoner to worry— worrying about Will.

Despite the terror that plagued the party, they knew they couldn’t just ride it out; or at least ride it out in the eye of the storm. The day was dragging on and the rain showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. They had to get out of there, they all knew they had to do something. They couldn’t just sit there and wait for the rain to wash them away, wash everything away. Between uneasy glances and fizzled out sentences, words that were partially uttered and then abandoned, the party came to the conclusion that anywhere was better than here and they knew just where that anywhere was. _The Byers’ house._ Will’s mom needed to know. She needed to know that once again her son had disappeared and that this time, this time they wouldn’t sit by waiting for Hopper to fix things on his own. Mike had come to the conclusion that the best place to be right now was with Will’s mom, to be there for her and come up with some sort of plan to find his best friend. He wasn’t going to let Will down this time. He wasn’t going to let him suffer alone. Mike was going to find a way to save him _on his own._ He knew he could count on his friends, but something about this felt strangely personal. This time, this particular vanishing of Will Byers, somehow felt as though it was his fault. Mike couldn’t help but dwell on the words Mark and Troy had spewed at him: _What is he you’re boyfriend Byers? Is Wheeler your little bitch?_ They made him so angry, rage seething in every cell in his body. _Why? Why the hell were they so cruel? Why do they hate him so much?_ He thought about the look on Will’s face as the taunts hit him, how utterly mortified he seemed. It pained Mike to think about the obvious turmoil it caused him. He would stick up for Will ten thousand times— no one million times, even if he himself got called a faggot if it meant they’d leave Will alone. Mike needed Will to know that despite everything, despite all that he went through and all that he’s going through, that he’s not alone. Mike would never let him be. And for some reason he found comfort in that.

“Mike, what do we do?” Lucas’s voice broke through the thrum of the rain.

Mike’s focus readjusted, his friend’s worried faces coming into view. Through his introspective, panic addled daze he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. He’d forgotten the most important thing in that moment; that he was surrounded by people who cared, who knew _exactly_ what he was going through. He sighed, breath inaudible in the ever present downpour. His eyes met Eleven’s, face awash with concern, swimming with what he understood as guilt. _Why does she feel guilty? She didn’t do anything? It’s not her fault?_ Her hand grasped for his, searching for some form of comfort and stability. But those were things Mike couldn’t offer, none of them could. She turned to study the rest of them, observing their own anxious tics presenting themselves. Waterlogged and shaken, Max chewed her lip. She squeezed and dug her nails into her fists, tension unable to be contained. Lucas’s jaw continued to clench and unclench as he blinked water droplets out of his eyes, intently focused on Mike. He was anticipating the next play, praying Mike would tell them what to do. It was never stated, nor was it necessarily intentional, but Mike had somehow become the de facto party leader. It was never a designated role, he just happened to fill it, always being the one to make the first move and take action. And so Lucas looked to him, searching for some sort of clever move to make next. Instead he was met with a deafening silence. Dustin griped his handlebars, wringing them beneath his fists. He tapped his foot nervously, making small rippling splashes in the quickly rising puddles. This nervous ritual continued for several moments before El broke the silence. She couldn’t take the indecision. She needed to break her friends, break her boyfriend, out of the paralyzing cycle. Someone needed to take control and instill initiative and in this moment she would be the one to helm the party and lead them to Will.

“We’re going to Joyce and we’re _going_ to find Will.”

They rode through the rain in a mostly awkward silence, none of them quite knowing what to say. Every once in a while Dustin would attempt to speak, uttering several _We should— Maybe he’s…_ and one or two _Do you think he’s?_ It was a depressing journey to the Byers’ to say the least. The only audible sounds between Dustin’s intermittent ponderings were the treading of bike tires through puddles and the constant pelting of rain. It was almost as if the world were crying with them, all the emotions that they couldn’t handle pouring out from the sky. There was something sort of magnificent about it, something almost supernatural, but no one would say anything. It left a collective unrest settling in the pits of their stomachs, an antsy discomfort that comes with the unknown. El looked back behind her, arms tightly wrapped around Mike as they rode off toward the Byers’. Something didn’t sit right with her. This whole thing felt _wrong_. She didn’t quite know why those words were said, why Mark and Troy had berated Will like that, but she knew that they were meant to sting. She’d learned lots of things from Mike, from Max and the rest, but those words were foreign to her— at least their meanings were. _Queer, faggot, fairy, gay…_ She’d only heard them once or twice and part of her was too afraid to ask what they meant and that part of her won out over curiosity. Despite her ignorance she knew they must be really bad. Those were words you don’t say unless you want to hurt someone, to make them feel small. She could almost infer their weight, their meaning based on the context. _They called him queer… a faggot?_ She mused silently. _What is he your boyfriend Byers?_ Her mind was working to put the pieces together, trying to understand why they would say something like that, why they would make fun of him for liking boys. _There’s nothing wrong with it? Why do they say it’s bad? How can liking someone be bad?_ She didn’t understand, she couldn’t understand how Will having a crush on Mike was wrong. It didn’t make sense to her. _You can’t control who you like, right?_ Did she love the fact that Will looked at her boyfriend the same way she did? No not really. Could she fault him though? Absolutely not. Mike was definitely a good person to have a crush on.

El brought her eyes back to face the road ahead of them. The familiar stretch seemed to go on for miles, miles more than any of them remembered. As they made their way closer to the Byers’ house she could feel the tension rising in Mike’s body. His breathing became heavier, chest rapidly rising and falling beneath her arms. She noticed Lucas and Dustin exchange worried glances with him. They were coming up on Mirkwood. This small patch of Hawkins was steeped in trauma for the boys. It was where Will had first disappeared and where all of their anxieties started. A pang of guilt rose up within her. The demogorgon took Will because she’d gone too deep into the upside down and awoken _something_. She couldn’t help dwelling on her own role in all of this and yet if none of it had happened she wouldn’t have met the party. She wouldn’t have met Mike. El knew that, unfortunately, if Will had never disappeared in the first place she would still be trapped in that lab and put under constant abuse and isolation. She refused to be lonely anymore and she wouldn’t let Will be either. She sighed into Mike’s shoulder as the thoughts washed over her. She was exhausted, they all were. Using her powers had drained her, leaving her feeling on the edge of wakefulness, but not enough to fall asleep. Her senses were dulled and she felt herself melting into Mike as the ride dragged on. She knew she’d recover eventually, but for now she’d settled into letting herself rest a bit. Her head weighed heavy on Mike’s upper back, but it didn’t bother him. It was sort of comforting feeling her physical presence. As they came up on Mirkwood the uneasiness that had settled upon them began to intensify. He could feel his heart sinking, being pulled into the pit of his stomach like lead. It was _here_ that Will’s ordeal began, well his ordeal with the supernatural. Mike knew, he knew better than any of his other friends, that Will had had many other ordeals before the upside down. These were things he told Mike in secret, made him swear not to tell a soul— even Dustin and Lucas. Despite all of them being so called “best friends,” Mike knew there were things Will would never tell the others. Even though he didn’t totally understand what Will was going through Will trusted him. He trusted him enough to share things he was afraid to admit to himself. But Mike knew there was still something Will refused to say, something that was very likely at the root of why Will ran away.

Mike’s pace quickened as the Byers’ house came into view. It was a speck in the distance, but that speck bred an amplitude of hope. It ignited a new found fervor within him as he spotted the familiar green Pinto parked out front. He had Joyce’s car in his sights, accompanied by Jonathan’s barely functioning set of wheels. He felt a smile curling across his lips. This wasn’t the typical snarky Mike Wheeler smirk. This was a grin of relief, the seeds of hope sprouting from within him. He grazed the horizon before him before glancing back at El, their eyes meeting in congruent optimism. _They’d get through this. They’d do it together. They’d find him. They had to._ He turned to look at his friends, a sense of relief washing over him with the realization that they were almost there, that all of them had made it. He could hear the small huffs escape as Dustin picked up the pace to catch up with them, wheels splashing through what was increasingly appearing to be a flash flood. They just had to get through the next hundred and fifty feet or so and they were Scott free. They could collapse into the Byers’ couch and come up with a plan. Mike swallowed hard. He knew the party would look to him for what to do next and usually he would come up with something, but right now his mind was blank. Nothing but frantic thoughts of his best friend swam through his mind, that and the overwhelming dread of having to break the news to Will’s mom. That was another beast entirely, one that left Mike with a pang of guilt twitching in his chest. He was starting to feel like he was bad at keeping promises, even if he never explicitly said them out loud. He’d made an internal vow to never let Joyce worry about something like this again, but Mike had forgotten to factor in that he was only a fourteen year old boy, not the saving grace of god. He could wish all he wanted that he could keep his best friend out of harm, but he couldn’t know what dangerous possibilities lurked beneath the surface. Mike didn’t have that power and despite how much he desired to, there was no way he could ever. Not even El was that gifted.

The front porch came up faster than anticipated, the party collectively slamming into each other as their bikes came to a halt. They were overeager to say the least. El dragged Mike toward the door as she rushed to escape the rain cascading off the gutters. They lot of them were thoroughly water logged, pools steadily streaming from their clothes onto the already rain soaked porch. Dustin pushed past the pair, pounding his fists into the heavy wooden door. His voice was shrill as he shrieked:

“Jonathan! Mrs. Byers! We know you’re in there! Open up!”

Lucas smacked him in the arm, eyes widening as he shook his head. He obviously disapproved of the approach.

“Dude?” He chided in a decibel just above a whisper.

Just as they began bickering in hushed voices— Mike, El, and Max looking on in a mix of horror and annoyance— Joyce Byers opened the door. The party paused, bodies and faces frozen as they tried to compose themselves before her. Her face contorted, a quizzical expression taking hold as she studied them. Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and El looked like a pack of sad stray dogs caught up in the storm. She couldn’t just leave them out there and if they were here it had to be for a good reason. As she eyed them individually she came to a horrifying realization. Her son _wasn’t_ among them. Joyce’s mind was frantic as she ushered the kids inside, sheltering them from the unrelenting rain. _Where is he? Something must’ve happened? Why isn’t he with them?_ She couldn’t hide her emotions, she was never really able to keep it together when the safety of her children came in to question. And right now Will’s safety was one giant enigma. She tried in vain to quiet her nerves; to disguise the shakiness of her voice, her gestures, but she knew the kids could see right through her. Joyce Byers was tough, but you can only handle so much. Her anxieties were channeled into mom mode, caregiver instincts kicking in as she led the party into the living room. She needed to find out _exactly_ what happened and get the kids safe and dry. As they approached the couch Joyce tried desperately to distract herself, her mind drifting toward the only thing she could think to do: _nurture_.

“Do you guys wanna change out of those wet clothes? I can hang them up over the tub and get you some of mine or Jonathan or Will’s—” Her voice caught in her throat at the mention of his name. It was a painful reminder that something was horribly wrong.

Her eyes darted to the ground purely out of instinct. She didn’t want to unload her anxiety onto Will’s friends. Adults are supposed to protect them from the unknown, from things that scare them, things that could harm them; but Joyce didn’t feel capable of hiding her grief. She had traumas of her own that threatened to boil over at the slightest inkling something might be awry with her sons. She tried to compose herself before offering a weak smile, but El could see right through her, right into the depths of her pain. There was no were for Joyce to run, she felt naked and exposed.

“I’ll be right back okay? I’ll find some extra clothes and then maybe we can get you something to eat and you can tell me what happened…” She trailed off, her eyes capturing the worried glances the party offered her.

She slipped away into the hall, trying desperately not to steal glances at them. It only made it more difficult. She made her way to her bedroom, hoping to collect herself for a moment before having to face the party again. As she rummaged through the freshly folded laundry stacked on her bed she felt her heart race. Everything felt too intense and numb all at once, as if the world was caving in. She couldn’t do this again. Lost in her worry Joyce absentmindedly gathered shirts, sweats, socks, and any other garments that might be suitable. She had to busy herself, to become lost in a mundane distractions. Joyce found that busywork always dulled the pain, it lulled her into a hyper focused trance. She let out a heavy, prolonged sigh, tears streaming down her face as breath escaped her. She felt hopeless and alone. No one could quite understand what she was going through. No one had to put up with all the bullshit that plagued her family. Ted and Karen Wheeler could never understand. They lived in their two story colonial in an upper middle class neighborhood where _nothing_ ever happened. Ted worked a steady job and Karen stayed at home with the kids. They never had to worry about money or if someone would be home to make dinner. They never had to protect their kids from their spouse. Karen never had to explain to her boy why his dad couldn’t make it to his birthday or that he’d gotten arrested. Joyce was angry, she was jealous, and guilty. The Wheelers, The Sinclairs, Mrs. Henderson… they didn’t have to worry about extrademinsional creatures possessing their kids— or they should worry but they were too complacent in the humdrum of suburbia. She needed to pull herself together, to stop comparing herself to everyone else. She did they best she could with the cards she was dealt. _I might not be Karen Wheeler, but I’m a damn good mom. I try. I try, damn it. Those boys deserve better, they deserve to have what I can’t give them… but I’ll keep trying. I won’t give up. I can’t._ She knew better than most that the life her and her family led was one you don’t just ‘come out of.’ No, you have to process through all the shit—wade through it, struggle in it, strive to make it out before you reach some semblance of normalcy. Joyce was positive their lives would never be normal. How could it be? Not after everything they’d been through.

Footsteps approached her from behind. Soft, careful treads echoed in her ears as she turned around, arms burdened with clean clothes. Jonathan rested his hand on her shoulder, eyes gazing down into her’s. They said everything and nothing. He’d gotten so mature and yet underneath it all Joyce could see the echo of a boy made to grow up too fast. That specter lived in both her sons. It was a painful reminder of where they’d been, but also proof of survival. It was proof that the Byers boys were tougher then most, even if they were gentle souls. She offered him a feeble smile, closed lips and dejected eyes. It was hardly convincing and yet Joyce prayed Jonathan wouldn’t burden himself with her neurosis. She hated to see him shoulder what should be _her_ struggles. She shifted the laundry toward her hip, cradling it between her arm and her side. She used her free hand to brush the hair away from Jonathan’s eyes, trying to offer him some form of ease. He returned the gesture with a weak, thin lipped smile of his own. There was no doubt in Joyce’s mind. They were on the same page. _Will was far from okay._ She pouted briefly, brows furrowing in concern. She tried to read Jonathan, tried to see past the cool, withdrawn exterior to what was underneath. _Pain_. Both of them felt it, but neither said a word. The silence wasn’t awkward, there was a sort of comfort in it. They weren’t alone despite how much their minds said otherwise. In this moment Joyce was relieved that Jonathan was just as worked up as she was. In the past it might’ve hurt, hurt to see one son in agony and the other suffering because of it, but now she found an odd sort of peace in the fact that she could share the weight with him. She didn’t have to be alone for the sake of her kids. She let her hand linger, cupping the side of his face as she looked into his eyes. His own brows furrowed as his mother fretted over him. He wanted to make everything okay, to fix the things that kept their family in turmoil, but he knew that was something a seventeen going on eighteen year old couldn’t do. He was still a kid after all, despite how strong he tried to be. Jonathan was still powerless in many ways, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try, that he would give up on supporting the only people that truly mattered to him. 

Nancy rapped her knuckles against the doorframe, sound slicing through the private moment. Joyce and Jonathan were pulled back into the present, eyes trailing toward the entrance where Nancy was leaning. Her body was tucked just beyond the wall, her head and hands feebly peaking through. She bit her lip, an awkward silence permeating the room as she contemplated what to say. She tapped her index finger on the wood of the molding before slipping behind Jonathan, lacing her fingers into his own. She eyed Joyce cautiously before choosing her words.

“The kids… they were wondering if everything was okay. They seem pretty shaken up.” Her voice is low and quiet.

Joyce sniffled, blinking and rubbing her eyes as she tried to recompose herself.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re okay. I’ll be right there.” She offered a shaky smile.

With Joyce’s reassurance Nancy disappeared behind the doorframe, followed by Jonathan shortly after. Before he’d left he squeezed her hand tightly in his, offering her what little reassurance she could. After taking several deep, uneven breaths Joyce made her way to the living room, stack of folded clothes held tightly to her chest. The bundle acted is though it were a shield, guarding her from the uncharted waters before her. She had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she knew what was in store for her. She wasn’t ready and she knew she never would be. She braced herself as she approached the gang of teens timidly gathered around her couch. She had to hold it together for their sakes. _No sense worrying them. They’ve already seen enough._

The fabric of fresh laundry was soft beneath her fingers. She almost missed the sensation of cotton flannel wrapped in her hands after she distributed the dry clothes to Will’s friends. Grateful expressions and words were offered as they shucked off what appeared like wet rags. Nancy passed them some towels, trying not to let copious amounts of water pool onto the Byers’ floor. It was useless, the carpets were already soaked. El toweled her hair dry as as the party collected themselves and settled into the cozy warmth of Joyce’s much too small for all of them living room. She was studying the atmosphere, gaging the mood of the room. _Who would speak first? What would they say?_ El watched as Joyce retreated a bit, as she folded her arms and rubbed her thumb over her lips. It was a nervous gesture, filled with anxieties El wouldn’t understand for a long time, if ever. As she studied Mrs. Byers, observing her attempts to remain calm for their sake, she felt compelled to break through the throng of teenagers and pull Joyce into a firm hug. Joyce let out a small, stunned gasp. She was appreciative of the girl’s kindness, her ability to perceive beyond what was seen. El looked up at her with large, apologetic brown eyes before offering the only words she could think to say.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, sweetie?” Joyce placed her hand on El’s cheek. It was warm and maternal.

El blinked, slowly turning her head back to face her now alert and somber friends. Their heads were half bowed, eyes shifting between her and the floor. They were draped in the same aura of guilt, though there was really no need for them to be. This was in no way their fault, despite the teenage mind believing everything revolved around them— good or bad. Mike shifted his weight awkwardly, coming to terms with what he was about to do. He stepped forward, approaching Mrs. Byers with tears in his eyes. Joyce had only just noticed the fresh purple bruise on his face. _What happened to him?_ She felt her heart sink as she watched him struggle to express whatever it was that was troubling him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t— I didn’t know. None of us realized he’d disappeared until it was over.” His voice was tinged with anger. It laced his every word as he tried desperately to suppress it.

“What do you mean? Until what was over? I don’t understand… where’s Will? Why isn’t he with you?” It wasn’t intentional, but her tone was accusatory. Her voice was frantic and she honestly didn’t feel that way, but the words just fell out.

Mike was taken aback. He took a step away, feeling shame wash over him as Joyce’s words settled into the room. He felt absolutely terrible. He swallowed hard, eyes wide with guilt as he processed the implication. _You’re a horrible friend, Mike. You can’t even pay attention to your best friend. How can you call yourself that when you didn’t even notice something was wrong? Will was right. You’ve fucked up and completely ignored him all summer. Fucking asshole._ He wet his lips, they felt dry and chapped as he tried to figure out what to say to Will’s mom. He needed to explain what happened, he needed to fess up, to admit that he’d been lacking in their friendship. He sighed, trying not to show how truly upset he was before attempting to relay the afternoon’s events.

“The assholes from yesterday… the ones who beat up Will. They saw us at the drive in.” He paused, words sticking in his throat as he recalled the incident in question. “We know who did it Mrs. Byers. It was Troy! Troy Walsh and Mark Andrews. Those shit heads beat up Will and they came after us this afternoon. They… they were making fun of him. They were saying all this messed up shit and taunting him about yesterday. They called him… they called him a—” Mike couldn’t get the word out. They felt bitter and toxic in his mouth. It was like he was uttering a curse, cursing Will. He didn’t want to have to be the one to say it and certainly not to Will’s family.

Joyce’s expression softened, eyes swimming with sadness. She slid out of El’s grip and approached Mike in the midst of his rambling, squeezing him tightly on the shoulder. She tried to reassure him with out words, they wouldn’t do much good anyway.

“They called him a faggot.” El said flatly, a slight curiosity mixed with sadness evident in her voice.

Mikes eyes grew wide. That word spread into the room like a disease, no one wanting to acknowledge or approach it. Jonathan grasped Nancy’s hand, an uncomfortable knowing settling upon him. He looked at his mother, tears welling up in her eyes. He knew exactly what was going through her mind. She was devastated. That word followed her son, even if he didn’t always hear it. It was whispered and rumored, trailing him like a plague. It made her sick that Will was preyed upon because he was different, because he was sensitive and kind. _Faggot_. It carried so much disgust. How could her sweet, shy boy conjure _disgust_. Joyce never put much stock into what anyone had to say about him. The words were cruel, but she did her best to shield him, to love him. To her, nothing either of her sons could do would ever make her give up on them. She loved them no matter what they did, how they felt, or who they were. They were her children and the love she had for them spread deeper than any prejudice. And so hearing that he was bullied and targeted for his difference pained her more than she could bear to say.

El shifted uncomfortably. She couldn’t help feeling she’d done something wrong. She could tell the word was hateful, but she didn’t understand why. She looked around the room, reading the expressions scattered among them. It didn’t fare well. There was a mix of panic and shame, like she’d uttered some taboo. She needed to make things right, but she didn’t know how.

“Why… why would they call him that? What does that mean?” Her question was innocent, but the implications were so loaded their mere existence could blow the room apart.

“It’s—” Lucas was cut off before he could utter another word.

“It’s an awful, disgusting, shitty word to describe someone who’s gay— who likes boys.” Mike shouted, rage seething in each syllable.

“But— but what’s wrong with liking boys? I don’t understand.” Her eyebrows knit closer together.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with it. People are assholes and hate what they don’t understand. They shit on anything different.” Jonathan said, a shakiness present in his voice.

El looked dejected, like someone had punched her in the gut. She felt incredibly sad, sad that there were people filled with so much hate. It didn’t make sense to her, but she began to understand why it was so heavy. She began to realize why it distressed Will so much and that that accusation was what weighed so heavily on him.

  
“That’s why he ran away.” She paused. “When the mouth breathers chased us, he ran away.”

“Where did he go? Where could he have gone?” Panic rose in Joyce’s voice as she looked to the kids for an answer.

“I— I don’t know.” Mike offered. “He destroyed the shit out of Castle Byers… and he wouldn’t go back to the arcade or Mirkwood or my house. I have no idea. Guys?”

He looked to his friends, but they looked just as puzzled. Each of them pondered for several moments trying to figure out where he could’ve gone, where he could be hiding. But none of them had anything to offer.

“The library? That’s where I’d go.” Dustin chimed in.

“No… No, Will would wanna go somewhere where no one would see him. He’d try to find a place where we wouldn’t think to look.” Jonathan began pacing, anxiety now on full display.

“What do we do?” Max blurted out, looking frantically between the party members.

“I— I don’t know. Mike?” Lucas quirked his eyebrow in his direction.

“I—I…”

“I know.” El’s tone was serious and strong as the group looked to her in confusion.

She adopted a stern expression, eyes fixed on Joyce and Mike. She didn’t know where Will was. Yet. But she knew how to find out. She walked over to Joyce, gripping her hand in hers. She stared down at the point of contact briefly before concluding her next move. She would find Will, she had to.

“I don’t know where he is. But I can find him. Like I did with Billy. I can look for him… I can go into the void and find him.” She was absolutely certain.

“El… that’s genius.” Mike knew he’d always be in awe of her. He had been since the moment they met. He felt a slight weight lifted with the knowledge that Will was almost within reach, almost back with the people who loved him most.

“Okay. What do you need?” Joyce was determined to do whatever it took to find her son and bring him home safe. It had to be different from last time.

After El had relayed the logistics of her plan Joyce got to work prepping the living room for El’s descent into the unknown. She dimmed the lights and drew the shades, creating as much darkness as she possibly could so that El could ease into the process more smoothly. Nancy knelt by the television, fiddling with the nobs as she attempted to find the static. She concentrated hard, eyes narrowing as she switched between stations, intent on finding the right one. El collected herself, settling into the lumpy armchair closest to the tv. She tried to relax as much as possible. This had the makings of a long, and difficult ordeal. But she was prepared for the risk. This would be nothing like the time she searched for Billy. There would be no threat of the mindflayer lurking in the shadows, or so she prayed. She took deep breaths as Mike approached her, bandana in hand, ready to be used as a makeshift blind fold. He offered it to her, their hands grazing gently as she took it. A slight blush creeped across her cheeks. She could chock it up as nerves, but she knew it was the proximity to Mike that gave her butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t want to admit she was a little anxious, the incident with Max’s step brother still fresh in her mind. It helped that Mike was by her side, offering support and comfort. She smiled softly at him, her lips mouthed a silent _thank you_ before she waited for everyone to settle down. The nob of the television clicked one final time as Nancy landed on the Chanel blaring white noise. It was time to get serious. 

“I need you to be quiet. No noise until I see him. I’ll tell you what I see, what’s happening— like last time. I promise I’ll find him.” She gave a closed lip smile to Joyce before wrapping the bandana over her eyes and settling in to the constant hum of the static.

El felt herself drifting in and out of the Byers’ living room, the sound of the tv becoming more and more distant as darkness swallowed her. Everything and everyone faded away as distant memories. Her eyes shot open, endless blackness engulfing her. She had to focus on finding Will. She let out a long, deep sigh, letting the cool air fill her lungs before she proceeded. She couldn’t fail. It wasn’t an option. Eleven took her first step into the dark shallow water, ripples cascading as her toes made contact. Putting one foot in front of the other she pushed forward, trying to ignore the anxiety of her last voyage into the void. She was terrified of what she might find there, scared of the possibilities that lurked in the all encompassing shadows. Her earliest memories of her excursions at Hawkins lab began creeping back up, replaying the growling and snarling calls of the demogorgon. She could see its distinct features, the way it moved and stalked as it searched her out. It haunted her in her mind’s eye; stringy saliva dripping from its grotesque mouth and razored rows of teeth threatening to take hold and devour her whole. She gasped, trying to banish the non existent creature. The small noise that escaped her was audible in the room, setting everyone on edge, but no one dared interrupt her. They were all anticipating what would happen next. As El continued into the blackness her thoughts circled back to Max’s brother. She shuddered at the memory of him sitting perfectly still in his bedroom, staring directly out at her. The fear she felt then was trying to force its way out into the open, but El wouldn’t let the recollection breathe. She wouldn’t give the mindflayer the satisfaction. She pushed onward, hearing small cries in the distance as she came upon a far off figure. As she drew closer she could make out more and more of his features. He sat on the ground, curled into himself. His head was cradled between his knees as he sobbed. A familiar bike rested off to the side, seemingly discarded in a fit of panic. El regarded him cautiously. She saw him. The boy before her was undeniably Will Byers; soft brown bowl cut, square wristwatch, polo, converse and all.

“I see him.”

“Where is he?!” Joyce blurted. Relief and fear mingling together.

“I don’t know… it’s like he doesn’t want me to see.” She couldn’t make anything out besides Will, no distinctive features painting the landscape around him— only darkness.

She approached him. Filled with trepidation she tried to discern where he was, but it was no use. Will didn’t want to be found. El finally came to stand behind him, hand hovering just out of reach, his shoulder only inches away. It was as if he’d sensed her. Will slowly looked over his shoulder, wiping tears from his cheeks as his gaze met hers. His eyes were wide and full of terror. He was crying out for help, but too afraid to say the words. He raised a shaky hand, wrapping tightly around El’s wrist. She felt her stomach sink, fear gripping her as he made contact. Her feet began disappearing beneath her, body slipping under the water as she was dragged into the abyss. It was just like Billy. She was terrified, terrified of being lost, trapped in the darkness with no way out. She could feel her physical body gripping the arm rests of the chair. Her fingers sunk into the upholstery, knuckles turning white. Warm, wet blood trickled from her nose as she struggled more and more inside the void. She knew she was worrying her friends, Nancy, Joyce, Jonathan, but there was no turning back. She knew, knew that like last time she’d have to travel through Will’s psyche until she reached him, reached the real him. It was a daunting task laid before her, but she knew there was no other way. It was do or die and Will’s safety was on the line.

“El! El, are you okay?” Mike panicked.

“I’m okay. I— I’m. I’m in the house.”

She was suddenly in the Byers’ living room again. Everything was as she’d remembered, but none of her friends sat anxiously around her. The room took on an eerie haze, like cigarette smoke wafting through the atmosphere. Two adult figures came into view. Their forms read like stories, intentions woven into their body language. It was a man and a woman. They stood several feet apart, anger booming in their voices, but the words were unclear. El approached the scene cautiously, the intensity and rage frightened her as she crept just out of view. Their faces came into focus. In the middle of the living room stood Joyce and a man El didn’t recognize. Their faces were contorted as they hurled insults back and forth.

“I see Joyce. You and a man. He’s angry. He’s yelling. I don’t know him.”

Joyce’s face went sheet white. This had to be one of Will’s memories. The scene El was describing it was her and Lonnie. She was sure of it.

“Will’s dad.” Joyce sighed, barely above a whisper.

El watched them intently. The man, Will’s father, had Joyce’s arm in a vice grip, wringing it tightly. She whimpered, sounds of pain escaping her as he berated and insulted her. You stupid fucking bitch! How many times do I have to tell you dinner should be fucking made when I get home! I don’t wanna wait around for your lazy ass to do your job! You’re fucking useless Joyce. Useless. I’m the man of the house, you’re supposed to do the cooking and cleaning and raising those boys. But you can’t fucking do that! Look at them! Look at them you stupid cunt! You’re raising a bunch of pussies. He slapped her, sound echoing out into the room. El felt herself tearing up. No one deserves to be treated like that. She almost couldn’t bear to watch, but she felt herself being drawn further and further in. She circled the room, stealing glances at the bickering pair as Lonnie threw a half full beer bottle at Joyce. It just missed her, crashing against the wall instead.

“You’re fighting.”

Joyce didn’t utter a word, she was to ashamed to admit to the events that had transpired all those years ago. And so she waited for El to describe what came next. El swallowed hard before noticing the familiar brown bowl cut belonging to Will peeking out from the crawl space. From just beyond the wall she could see a terrified pair of eyes studying everything his parents said, everything they did. It pained her, it made her chest ache as she crouched down and crawled into the cubbyhole. 

She drew closer to Will, settling beside him as he sat amidst scattered sheets of paper and a plethora of crayons. Tears streamed down his face in the dim glow cast by his flashlight. He scribbled away vigorously, exchanging crayons several times as he played with all manner of colors. El watched him patiently as he filled in various shades of blue, pink, green, yellow, and purple. Under the weight of his crayons, just beneath his fingertips was a childlike illustration; a rainbow spaceship. The only joyful thing in the encompassing dysfunction. El parted her lips to speak, ready to relay the details to the anxiously awaiting group.

“I see Will. But he’s younger, he’s little. He’s hiding behind the wall, drawing. It looks like a spaceship…”

“Rainbow-ship.” Joyce smiled.

 _Rainbow-ship_ El repeated before returning her attention to the scene before her. The room suddenly became obscured, sweeping winds like the storm inside Billy’s mind swept away the Byers’ living room and into a vast expanse of wilderness. It was verging on winter. Breath visible in the stagnant cold. El looked around her, frantically searching for Will. She caught him in her sights, timid and beside himself, shivering in the cold November air. He stood before his father, crying and pleading with him. Lonnie was shoving a riffle into the boy’s hands despite his vehement protests. Jonathan looked on in contempt, the anger toward his father was palpable even in the memory. Lonnie grabbed Will by the shoulders, shaking him and hurling hateful words at his younger son. _You’re a fucking sissy. Both of you. You’re sorry excuses for boys, you know that? You’re not supposed to cry when you shoot a fucking rabbit._ He glared at Jonathan, eyes filled with disappointment. _Do you wanna be known as a pussy, Will? Cause that’s what you are. You’re mom’s raising you to be a stupid little faggot. Next thing you know you’re gonna be asking me for fucking ballet lessons and wearing tutus and shit. I’m not having a god damn queer for a son. You hear me, Will? You’re gonna shoot this rabbit and you’re gonna man up and stop being such a fruit. Your mom indulges the crap outta you. I should break every single one of those fucking crayons and beat your ass._ Despite his father’s warnings Will couldn’t hold back tears. He was paralyzed with fear as Lonnie jerked him forward and forced him to pull the trigger. In his anxiety riddled state, Will missed the target, a sigh of relief escaped as the rabbit hopped to safety. Lonnie was enraged. A violent aura washed over him as he lifted his son off the ground and slapped him across the face, leaving a red welt. _Explain that to your mother, you little shit._ He spit in the frost coated grass as he tossed Will down. El felt tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the fresh blood just beneath her nostril. She was distraught and devastated. Will had been through so much, too much. She wanted the torment to end. She wanted him to be happy.

El didn’t dare utter the events that transpired aloud from that point onward, not until she truly found him. They were too personal, too painful. She found herself wandering through several memories, many of them becoming more and more familiar as she approached the present— as she drew nearer to Will. As she ran into the blackness she could hear music, upbeat and lively. Hawkins middle came into view, the distinct blue and silver decorations of the snowball budding into focus. She could see herself; blue dress, hair pinned back, a shy smile plastered on her face as she danced with Mike. Just beyond the crowd of dancing teens she saw Will. He sat dejectedly on the sidelines, staring off into the distance. As _Every Breath You Take_ by the Police hummed through the gym. She could feel his discomfort. He seemed sad and listless even after a sweet looking girl approached him to dance. As the shuffled awkwardly around in circles El couldn’t help but notice Will’s utter lack of interest, the look of longing in his eyes. He was staring at Mike. He was pining after him, wishing they could slow dance together. She could see the subtle look of anguish in his eyes as her past self and Mike shared an intimate Kiss. Will wanted that, too. He wanted to kiss him, to share in awkward teenage discovery and test the waters with his crush. She felt sorry for him— not so much pity as wishing he could have everything he wanted. She eyed him one last time before stepping out through the gymnasium doors and into a torrential downpour. Before her was Will, sitting in a dimly lit corner of Castle Byers. He desperately held a photograph of him and the party. It was a happy picture, one filled with naïveté and laughter. She studied the image as Will griped it in his shaky hands. Dead center stood him and Mike, shoulder to shoulder, smiles plastered firmly in place. He held it up, glaring angrily at the reminder of a happier time before tearing it to shreds. _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_ He cried out between each tear he made. She knew what he was telling himself: _You’re an idiot for liking Mike. You’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, you stupid faggot._ She watched him intently as he stood up and made his way out into the rain. He searched frantically for a moment before wrapping his hands tightly around a baseball bat. He clutched it hard, anger laced into his grip. He reeked with an aura of jealousy and hurt. The emotions permeated through him and out into the open as he smashed castle Byers to pieces. She could hear his sad, bitter sobs as he landed blow after blow. He kept repeating the offending words that started his turmoil as he tore his childhood hiding place to shreds. _It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!_

He uttered the word _fuck_ several times before dropping to his knees in exhaustion before the figures of Lucas and Mike appeared in the distance, running to find him and pluck him from his misery. The world shifted once more, only this time El knew it wasn’t a memory. Something inside her knew she had stumbled across the present Will and the place he had chosen to run to. She’d finally caught up with him. Once again it was raining. It was almost as though a spotlight shone upon him, casting him in a white glow as the downpour lasting from the afternoon pelted him and soaked him to the bone. She watched him as tried to choke down hiccuping sobs. She stepped closer, the landscape becoming more and more distinct. Around Will were large, sloping gray rocks. They towered high into the glooming sky and dragged down into the water beneath them. They were perched on a cliff, sitting just on the edge of a massive drop. Pine trees and brush framed the cliff side, blowing back and forth in the storm. El peered over the edge and into the deep blue water down below. _Sattler’s Quarry. What was Will doing here?_ She moved to sit beside him, trying to understand the scene unfolding before her. She could see his mind at work, it was almost as if she could read his emotions and hear what he was thinking. He drew into himself, body curled as he glanced over the edge of the quarry. Will swallowed hard, his breath erratic and uneven as he tried in vain to calm down. All the anxieties of the past few days, months, years washed over him in a single moment and tormented every thought he had. He felt utterly and completely alone. _No one will ever understand. No on cares, Will. What are you doing, why’re you still holding on to the idea that you can hide this forever? You know you can’t. It’s all gonna come pouring out one day and then what? What’ll you do then? Run away? You can’t run away from yourself. You know what you are and so does everybody else. It’s only a matter of time before they won’t love you anymore. They’ll realize what dad knew all along. You’re a faggot. A disgusting, worthless queer. No one cares about you and they certainly don’t care about some dead little faggot._ Will let out an angry, pain filled scream. It echoed out into the air and blended with the rain.

El felt tears of her own welling up. There was so much hurt, so much fear contained inside him. It was too much for one person to bear. She desperately wanted to make it disappear, but she knew this was a monster she couldn’t fight. Will would have to defeat it on his own. Despite how much she wanted to reach out, to pull him from his misery and let him know he wasn’t alone, she couldn’t. Their physical bodies were miles apart, separated by roads and pouring sheets of rain. El watched as Will pushed himself off the ground, limbs unsteady as he rose to look up at the sky. He let the water pelt his face, let it drown out his despondent cries, his tears mingling as the beads of rain trickled down his face. It was like the night he destroyed castle Byers only worse. Everything he felt was so much more intense, more raw. He looked out into the distance, studying the empty vastness of the canyon below. It called to him, shouting at and taunting him. El felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The scene before her left her uneasy. She knew something was horribly wrong. All of her senses were on alert, looking for whatever monster was lurking in the shadows— whatever monster was stalking him. But Will was the monster. It suddenly became clear to her that the source of his torment was him. He’d created this looming, all encompassing fog that preyed on every anxious thought he conjured. El felt as if she too would be swallowed up by it if she lingered much longer. She had to make her way back to Joyce, Jonathan, Mike, and the others, but something stopped her. It was sinister and cruel, more potent than the thoughts Will had had before. She could see them coursing through him despite his clenched fists and gritted teeth. _Just kill yourself. Do it. Everything would stop if you didn’t exist. What’re you so scared of Will? It’s better than the alternative. Kill yourself before someone does it for you, before mom stops loving you, before Jonathan despises you. End it. End it now._ He collapsed to his knees, just shy of the edge of the cliff. His mind and body were at war. Deep down Will knew the words were lies, he knew that dying wouldn’t solve anything and yet he desperately wanted to. As he peered out into the deep blue water below, his words echoed in El’s ears. _Last warning, faggot. Jump!_

El gasped, breath caught in her lungs as she ripped off the blindfold. Her eyes were red rimmed and frantic, tears streaming down her face as she searched for Joyce. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, panic and terror threatening to take hold. El felt Mike’s hand wrap tightly around hers, trying to pull her back. He was speaking, but she couldn’t hear him over the sound of her pulse. Joyce came into view, crouching in front of her as she cupped her face. Her eyes carried the same fear, the same pain.

“Sweetie, are you okay? What’s going on? Where’s Will?”

El searched her face, trying to gather her words. Her voice was hoarse and shaky.

“We need to hurry! Danger— Will’s in danger.” She could hardly tell them where he was, her mind moving faster than her mouth could make sounds. “He’s at the quarry.” Her lips quivered as the words escaped, she wished they never had to be uttered.

her had begun to crumble. Jonathan’s hand rested on her shoulder, pulling her off the floor and dispelling the ringing in her ears.

“Mom?!” He tossed her the car keys.

Everything moved too fast, bodies shuffling out of the house and into cars— some in Jonathan’s, some in the pinto. Joyce sped off into approaching night, sky growing darker and more ominous. Jonathan trailed not far behind, the two engaged in a desperate race to Will. As she pressed firmly on the gas she could feel the tears streaming down her face, the maternal panic welling up inside her. She no longer cared if she broke down in front of the kids. She didn’t care that she had Mike and El in the car with her. Joyce couldn’t put on a brave face any longer, her son’s life was on the line and she needed to find him. She glanced at Mike and El from her rear view mirror, watching as Mike tried to hold back tears. His jaw was clenched, tension budding beneath the surface, threatening to rip him apart. He wanted to find Will already, to save him. He needed to let him know that everything would be okay. But Mike could hardly believe that himself. He stared out the window watching each passing car, tree, and house as if he were counting the miles to Will. El’s hand was gripped firmly in his, reassuring squeezes exchanged intermittently between them. These supportive gestures did little to ease his disquieted mind, however. He felt like he would explode at any moment. Anxiety burrowed its way into every fiber of his being and held him in a vice grip. It made him antsy, made him angry. Time was moving far too slow and in Mike’s mind every minute that passed was a minute too many. Mike was shaken out of his rumination as Joyce’s tires transitioned onto gravel. The distinctive sound of pebbles kicking up under their rotation alerted him that they were close. _Closer to Will_.

Joyce eased up on the gas, slowing her speed as she caught a small, shivering figure in the glow of her headlights. Mike raised himself off the seat, peering over the headrest as the car inched forward. Before Mike could think about his actions, before his mind caught on to what he was doing, Mike pushed the passenger’s side door ajar. With the car still in motion Mike darted out into the rain, leaving a stunned El still strapped into the backseat. He had Will in his sights, running as fast as his lanky body could carry him. He called out:

“Will! Will, stop!” 

His voice cracked as his shouts echoed into the quarry. Will looked back to see his best friend bounding toward him. He blinked a mixture of tears and water from his eyes as he took a step away from ledge, a small sense of relief building inside him. He could hear Mike skid to a halt, pebbles and water splashing as he stopped just short of him. He approached him cautiously, hand reaching out, until it clapped Will on the shoulder. Suddenly Mike was directly behind him. Warm, shaky arms wrapped around Will’s waterlogged body. He could feel Mike sobbing into him, pleading with him.

“Will, please… please don’t… don’t do this.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

Will closed his eyes tight, lips quivering as shame washed over him. He had never intended for Mike to see him like this. Nothing was supposed to happen this way and yet he was glad the night wasn’t going according to plan. He felt himself fall back into Mike, sinking to the ground and taking him down with him. The two boys sat awkwardly as the cars in the distance stalled before their passengers raced toward them. Will looked Mike in the eyes, so many words he desperately wanted to say were hidden in that gaze. In the moments before Joyce, Jonathan, El, and the others reached him Will clung on to solitude of him and Mike. He held on to the knowledge of being able to breakdown with out a word. And so Will leaned into Mike, gaze unwavering as he let the tears stream down his cheeks. _I’m sorry_ were the only words he uttered before his brother scooped him up off the ground and out of Mike’s arms. As Jonathan whisked him away to Joyce’s car, Will looked back at Mike with guilt laden eyes. He at once felt shame for all that had transpired and sadness that he couldn’t have stolen a few more moments with Mike. He wasn’t prepared for what might come next, for the questions and concerns. He wasn’t prepared for honesty, but he knew there could be no more lies. He was tired of lying, but the truth seemed far more painful despite how freeing it might be. Will would have to face the truth sooner or later, whether he liked it or not— and he had a feeling it was the _not_.


	9. Boys Don’t Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some truths you can’t keep in forever, some truths that if held in will only hurt you. Will is tired of hurting and the truth is both the culprit and the thing he most needs to confess. In which Will Byers needs to make a decision before it all becomes too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Okay, so this chapter is long as fuck... I had a lot to fit in here before our big finale! Reminder of our usual warnings my good readers~ internalized homophobia, slurs, suicidal ideation, self harm reference, child abuse reference, ect. But! This chapter isn’t all bad. Will has good people in his life, people that we all know would literally murder someone for him. I also stuck some nerdy shit in here, because again, I am a big fat dork who loves fantasy and sci-fi. Anyway, this is the second to last chapter... it took me a while to write because I so don’t want it to end, but it’s almost met it’s conclusion and if I learned anything from watching Supernatural it’s that you can’t force a story to continue past it’s prime, it’s natural projection. I hope you enjoy and thank you again for all the support, you guys are incredible! All and any feedback is greatly appreciated 💕
> 
> This chapter’s song is “Boys Don’t Cry” by the Cure. It’s so angsty but make it pop adjacent, like the majority of new wave/ post punk. 
> 
> I tried to laugh about it  
> Cover it all up with lies  
> I tried to laugh about it  
> Hiding the tears in my eyes  
> 'Cause boys don't cry  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________________

Will was drenched to the bone, clothes sopping wet and clinging uncomfortably to his skin. Despite the humidity; the damp, hot air that comes after a July rain, he felt a chill rising up inside him. He panicked as an inkling of paranoia, memories of the mindflayer, came lurking in the back of his mind… on the back of his neck. He was terrified as the sensation slithered up his spine, making him shudder in his brother’s arms. This chill was different somehow, deep in his heart he knew that _thing_ was gone, but in this moment he was battling something else entirely— in some ways a much scarier, much deadlier monster than any he’d ever faced before. This time he was alone. This time neither his friends, nor his brother, nor Joyce could make it go away. He had to do this on his own and that horrified him. It scared him so much that he had become consumed by it all summer, since well before the summer… hell, years and years before this summer. It began dawning on him that this chill was far from the faint sense of the mindflayer’s presence, that it wasn’t because he felt cold or sick or wet; it was the disturbing notion that everyone now knew his intentions at the quarry, that everyone saw him contemplating it. _They know you were gonna jump, dumbass._ He swallowed hard, a lump catching in his suddenly dry throat. He clung to Jonathan for dear life, arms hooked around him and eyes scrunched tight. He didn’t want to cry anymore, he wanted the tears to stop, to roll in reverse and slink back into his tear ducts. Despite how much he didn’t want anyone to see how distraught he was, he knew it was far too late and he was bound to cry several, several more times tonight. He could just feel it. It made him feel weak, small and vulnerable like a timid little mouse. Like the rabbit his father tried to make Jonathan shoot. All he could think in that moment that he was meant to be that pathetic little rabbit, running from a metaphorical gun that threatened to blow him away. He almost wished it would. It would make things easier. _You’re so god damn pathetic, Will. Man the fuck up! Stop crying you fucking baby. Man up. Man up. Man up. You never were very good at that, huh? You’re a sorry excuse for a boy, a brother, a son. Dad hated that about you. You can’t do anything right… you can’t even be normal. You can’t be how you’re supposed to. You’re broken and disgusting and no one could ever love a guy who can’t even MAKE himself like girls. Just try harder. You’re not trying hard enough! Stop being a faggot and just try, damn it!_ He felt himself stifle a sob. He tried to catch it before it came out. Everyone was already so concerned about him. He just wanted it to end; the humiliation, the pity, the hiding, the fear. He wanted it to all come crashing down like the waves Max told him about in California. Just one big rush of water to wash everything out into the sea, including him. 

Will begrudgingly opened his eyes, waterlogged lashes fluttering intermittently under the weight of tears, rain, and exhaustion. He looked out into the distance, the Pinto’s high beams illuminating the hazy Indiana evening. As Jonathan carried him closer and closer to the car, Will searched through the steaming fog. His eyes found Mike, frozen like a deer in his mom’s headlights. In his worried, suspended state he appeared shrunken and small— his body seemingly collapsing in on itself as he watched Will move further and further away. Will clenched his jaw, feeling the tendons and muscles tighten as he tried to prevent the quivering of his lips, the beginnings of a potential breakdown. Despite his own agony, the gravity of his own fears, he worried about Mike. He worried about the way his legs buckled, how his knees fell to the ground, how his arms went limp at his sides. Will was unsure if it was a consequence of bottled up anxiety or sudden surge of relief at the realization that he’d made it in time to stop him from a very permanent, very unreversible decision. Either way it left Will with a ball of lead in the pit of his stomach, the guilt he felt threatening to erode him from the inside out. He kept his eyes locked on Mike’s pale, illuminated face as Jonathan slid him into the front seat of their mom’s car and held him so tight he might break. As he felt the warmth radiating between them his body melted both into the leather and his brother’s embrace. It was safe, stable, and secure, just like how he felt when he regarded Mike. The two actions grounded him simultaneously, bringing him back into the present moment and allowing the desperation to slip away if only for a little while. He didn’t want to break his gaze, he didn’t want to look away, but he knew it was time to face his mom and Jonathan despite his sheer and utter fatigue. The only energy he cared to expend was acknowledging the way Mike stared at him, the unspoken understanding he always seemed to offer. It unfortunately came to an end as Joyce pulled him close after Jonathan relinquished Will hugging privileges to her. She drew him into her chest, cradling him as she kissed the top of his head. Pushing his hair away from his face, she regarded him with a tearful, very much relieved smile. He tried to reciprocate, but he was too preoccupied on the guilt and shame he felt to accept that he was in the presence of people who loved him.

Joyce thumbed his cheek. Her soft, tender hands unwilling to let him go. She was too afraid that if she pulled away, even for a minute, that Will would cease to exist in front of her and she was unwilling to take that chance. And so she held him, tears staining her cheeks as she closed her eyes and wondered where her once brilliantly happy little boy had gone and how she could get him back. Will felt a soft, breathy smile sink into his hair, his mom practically smothering him in her arms. He didn’t want her to let go. He had grown so weary of pushing everyone away. He wanted, even if he never told the truth, to accept the unconditional nature of Joyce’s love and yet he was so afraid. He was petrified that there were conditions— many, many of them and he felt guilty for how much his mom cared. _Why does she care so much? Why does she still love me? After everything I’ve done… after everything that’s happened… if she knew the truth. Would she still love me? Would she still want me for a son?_ He went lax in her arms. He could barely find the wear withal to inhabit his body. He just wanted to go home. He wanted his bed, he wanted to blast his newest mixtape, he wanted to close his eyes and wake up to all this being some twisted dream, for him to stop being gay— like it was some sick nightmare that he conjured up from god knows where. And yet he wanted to be next to Mike when it was all over, when he finally woke up. Will couldn’t stand how much he thought about him, how much he wanted to be with him, to hold his hand, to lay his head on his shoulder just like El does, to kiss him with the door open just a crack as his mom watched tv down the hall. He felt himself grimace at the notion. It repulsed him and yet nothing in the world would make him happier. Lost in his thoughts, he’d hardly noticed Jonathan ruffling his hair and telling him he loved him, that he’d meet them back at the house. He didn’t notice the sound of tires over gravel as he pulled away or that Joyce had finally let go of him. The sound of the door slamming shut in the back seat didn’t even register until he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder so tight that startled him. His eyes flicked eyes toward the long, spindly fingers pressed into his shirt. They were warm and familiar. They belonged to Mike and they possessed a barely detectable tremor that Will was sure only he could feel. He didn’t even have to turn around to know Mike was smiling. It wasn’t his usual smirk, or his confident grin. It was sadder, crestfallen yet relieved. He was so incredibly glad that he didn’t give up on Will. Not ever in a million years. That was the nature of their friendship; the other’s protector, their light in the dark of the mines of Moria when all others fade. They were Frodo and Sam, carrying burdens even if the other couldn’t fully understand the breadth. They persisted none the less and now it was time for Will to cast his burden into mount doom and watch it melt with Mike by his side.

“I’m glad your’e ok, Will. I’m really, really happy you’re ok.” The pain in Mike’s voice was evident. It was clear he knew Will wasn’t _okay_ , but he knew he was _safe_ now and that’s all that mattered.

Will felt himself smile weakly, just enough for it to act as a beacon of him being present. He wanted so badly to reach out, to thrust his hand out of the sea he was sinking in and grab onto something, to hold on to it for dear life. Right now that thing, that lifeline, was Mike and the only way Will knew how to signal he was in danger of drowning was to do what he did worst: lie. His feeble attempts at a reassuring smile were enough to spell out _HELP_ in their own secret language. Will was a horrible liar and his face always betrayed him. Despite how much he’d practiced it was never convincing. He shifted carefully in his seat, eyes finally daring to look at Mike. When he had flicked his gaze to meet the dark, tear swollen eyes before him he felt a shudder up his spine. Will couldn’t handle the intensity that lie within them; all of the worry, the anger, the fear, desperation, heartache, _love_. But it wasn’t the type of love he craved, the love that he so greatly desired to be reciprocated. Nor could it ever replace, fill the void, or erase all of the emptiness left by his father. No, this love was something else. This love didn’t stem from blood or attraction or pity, it came from a common seed planted inside them both— it was a deep rooted brotherhood. They were _chosen_ brothers. Mike had accepted Will as his family, despite all his flaws and abnormalities, all the things he hated most about himself. It’s what drew them closer, what initially pulled them together. In this moment Will knew that he didn’t need to utter a single word, that even if he never spoke about what happened here tonight, Mike wouldn’t give up on him. In spite of it all Mike refused to abandon his best friend and for Will there was great solace in knowing that despite his paranoia, his fear of being rejected, Mike would never leave him stranded in the dark. Will took comfort in that and let a true and honest smile bloom upon his lips instead. He was so very grateful, so indebted to Mike’s genuine kindness. And so very enamored by the beautiful authenticity offered by his best friend. He knew he loved him, even if it was the wrong kind of love.

“Me too,” He managed as his voice shook, raspy and thick. “Me too.”

He could hear a relieved sigh, something almost akin to an uncomfortable chuckle, escape Mike’s lips. There was an awkwardness that blanketed the interior of the Pinto. It hung heavy in the air and swathed Will in its uncertainty. And yet that clumsy hopefulness, the air of cautious compassion meant the world to him. Merely being in such a presence; in the same car as his best friend, his mom, and El, gave him the slightest sense of tranquility. It was as if for a moment all the disquieting thoughts melted away as Joyce squeezed his hand in hers, her thumb rubbing small circles into his rain-damp skin. He released the tension pent up in his subconsciously balled fist, sliding his hand further into his mom’s gentle grip. He needed the warmth beneath his fingertips. He needed to know she was really there, that he had been saved from himself. He felt so incredibly guilty as he let his body slink further into the seat. All eyes were on him, hot and boring into his skull, trying to pry inside his mind and forcing out all and any evidence of his attempts to erase himself. He still felt sick to his stomach, an uncomfortable knowing rising up inside that this sensation would last and last until he gave into a truth he knew he would never be ready to disclose. The thought continuously tortured him. He’d thought about tonight so many times before. It hadn’t been a matter of if, but when. He hated to admit it, but he had been crudely debating that jump for months now. The thoughts of ending it all were nothing new, he’d just never had the guts to try before. _Until today._ All these years, this whole summer, his self loathing grew and grew—cultivating into this untamable monster. He had been too young to understand before, too naïve to truly get the gravity of what was wrong with him and the weight a decision like this held… the permanence. But today none of that mattered. This hellish fucking week had culminated into the final, impossibly heavy, straw. The cruelty, the anger, the hatred all weighed down on him and bubbled over into the final impulse to run away and give the world one less faggot to taunt. He’d thought the night he’d destroyed Castle Byers was the worst day of his life, the worst he’d felt thus far, but he had been dead wrong. Being suspected of being gay by your best friend was nothing compared to being intrinsically hated and preyed upon with the intent to kill. Sure the demogorgon and being possessed by the mindflayer were haunting, terrifying ordeals, but they were nothing compared to the malice of _people_.

An uncomfortable silence clung heavily in the air as the sound of rubber tires treading gravel rang through the car. Joyce was making her way out of the quarry and back home, off to take her son to where she knew he’d be safe. She eyed him cautiously as he stared out the window and into the dark, hazy summer night. She knew something was plaguing him, but it was hard to discern what exactly. It felt too invasive, too inconsiderate to ask him to open up to her on the ride home. She knew her son. She knew him better than anyone. He was one of the most mentally reclusive people she’d ever met. Will kept his emotions, his feelings, his anxieties under lock and key for fear of hurting someone else. She knew he was terrified of the possibility of making people worry and yet that’s exactly what his silence did. Will’s tendency to bottle everything up consequently perpetuated the very thing he tried to avoid and Joyce was tired of watching him fall victim to his own uncertainty time and time again. As she clutched the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white, she resolved to never let her son fall victim to his misery again. She wouldn’t let him hide in the dark, refusing all and any attempts to reach him. _No more secrets._ She was tired of seeing her boy in pain and if she had chance of changing it she was going to take it. She took a deep breath, letting the cool breeze of the night air filter in through the slightly open window. She watched Will out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way he leaned his head on the passenger’s side window, a stream of tears flowing steadily down his face. His sobs manifested in gentle shakes and hiccups. His eyes were vacant, mind far off and wrapped up in a despair Joyce and yet to understand. She desperately wanted to. She wanted to know his pain, to save him from it. There are things you feel as a mother, things no one could ever understand, that compel you to love so much more deeply. Joyce needed Will to know that whatever it was— that whatever was plaguing him, torturing him, hurting him— she would be there. She couldn’t give up on him, she wouldn’t. Her son’s happiness was all that mattered to her and in those tense moments on the drive home Joyce’s heart ached in the it’s absence.

Her gaze drifted back toward the road, slowly trailing away from Will. Before she met the windshield once more she caught Mike and El in her rear view mirror. Her eyes softened, though the sadness lingered. She offered a small, tight lipped smile in the reflection in hopes of comforting them in any sense of the word, though she knew it could only do so much. She could see the same hint of fear in their faces, the same markings of worry and concern. Creased foreheads, furrowed brows, slight frowns, and tear-puffed eyes. It left a hollow feeling in her chest, one that begged to be filled. Maybe it was the mother in her or maybe it was just empathy, human decency, or the capacity to care that compelled her to provide support for children that weren’t her own. Maybe this compassion stemmed from a selfish need to be understood or a to offset her own emotions for a while. But Joyce didn’t care. Part of her was glad that Will’s friends were there, that the ride home didn’t just consist of her and her increasingly absent, infinitely deflective son. She wasn’t strong enough to do this alone and couldn’t stand the possibility of her boy drifting further and further away and so she was glad that were now two extra anchors on this runaway boat. It was almost as if Mike could sense what she was thinking, how she was feeling, how _Will_ was feeling. He had remained silent for an uncharacteristically long amount of time, as did El, though that was less of a shock. She was a girl of few words, actions speaking louder. But Mike… Mike always seemed to know what to say and when to say it. He had a knack for just “getting” her son, but in the quiet moments in the car it seemed as if Mike had succumbed to his own fears. He sat there dejected and introspective, watching as Will remain trapped between his earlier desires to end it all and his current yearning to be wanted. It weighed so heavily upon him, the knowledge that there had been, there still _might_ be, the possibility of a life without Will. He’d seen it before, felt it so much that he put himself in danger to save him at only twelve years old. Joyce couldn’t have prayed for a more perfect friend to her son. The other boys were lovely, sweet, and loyal… yet it was different with Mike. Mike was like Jonathan in some sense, an unbridled desire to care. He gave so much of a shit, even to his own detriment. He let himself take taunts and punches meant for her son just to keep him from harm. Part of her doubted the other boys would do the same. It wasn’t as if Mike was playing hero, as though he did it for recognition or self satisfaction. His bravery and kindness came from a selfless place, it was unprompted and had developed from a place of loneliness in which both boys used to occupy before they found each other. And Joyce was so grateful, so glad. She knew Will was, too.

As miles of trees and open roads passed by his window, Will thought of nothing but the sinking feeling that continued to drag him away from his family, his friends. He couldn’t help but give in to the emptiness he felt inside, the pain. His hands were frozen at his sides, arms heavy and limp despite how much he wanted to move them. His body was tired, his mind was tired. Will breathed shaky, unreliable breaths as he hung his head out the window. The breezy air whipped his hair away from his face, beads of misted water lightly splashing up from the road as Joyce sped along. Right now he was just existing. He felt his heart beating inside his chest faster than he would have like or cared to admit. His fingers brushed against the seat, slowly trailing up his torso until his right hand rested over his heart and rung the damp fabric of his shirt in a balled up fist. The physical and emotional pain and weariness started to blend, feeding into the other and blurring the lines of which one should garner more attention. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them fast and wide in rapid succession. Will muttered to himself over and over: _No no no no no._ Practically hidden within his breaths it was barely audible. In desperate whispers his voice shook, tears still streaming. _Please stop, please make it stop. I don’t want to do this anymore. I almost made it all go away… making it go— I almost… why? Why won’t it stop?_ His intermittent, almost silent pleas trickled out and resonated into the back seat, to Mike and El. The pair looked at each other, a tense nervousness shared in their eyes. Mike couldn’t hold back his own tears, hand gripping El’s so tight it hurt. But she didn’t care, it was nothing compared to what Will was going through. He could barely look at her. His gaze was intensely locked on Will, afraid to look away even for a moment, the ever present fear that he might vanish consuming him. El squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him everything would be alright. But based on what she saw before they’d found Will, what she’d discovered in his memories, she doubted it as well. Mike’s burdened stare finally broke away from his best friend and he faced El with troubled, wild eyes. They weren’t angry or frightening, just overwhelmingly sad. Within them held the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to help Will, that he was powerless to protect him from himself. At this point both of them, El and Mike, were sure that this wasn’t something they could handle for him. They couldn’t take it on because as much as they wanted to, they both knew neither of them could ever truly understand what was going through his mind… especially when he refused to tell them. All El could do was hold Mike as he silently sobbed in her arms. She was positive that he would never show this level of vulnerability outside this car, outside of her, outside of Will. Like Joyce, Mike, and Will; El knew that despite the friendship the party all shared the bond between her boyfriend and his best friend was different. There was something deeper that the others would never understand and yet some how in her own way she could.

She watched Will’s shoulders heave subtly from behind his seat, observing the way he trembled as he cried. El pressed her head gently into Mike’s, almost as if she was trying to hear his thoughts. Normally she could almost feel what he was thinking, but right now… now it felt harder than ever. She wasn’t sure what to do, how to soothe the two crying boys. She darted her eyes toward the rear view mirror and searched Joyce’s face for some form of wisdom, but she held the same powerlessness in her gaze. El swallowed hard. Will needed a distraction. Mike needed a distraction, hell they all did. She tried desperately to think of something to say, of something that would ease the tension blanketing the car. Nothing came to her, nothing at all. She felt defeated and angry with herself even though she knew it wasn’t her fault, nor was it her job. She sighed into Mikes hair, his head resting on her shoulder as they both studied Will in their own ways. She sat there for several moments, mouth slightly parted, yet unknown words poised to slip out when they finally _might_ become cohesive. Mike lifted his head and leaned toward the passenger’s seat in front of him, toward Will. His fingers brushed gently along the worn leather, nervously searching for what he knew Will needed. Seemingly sensing Will’s backsliding thoughts Mike gladly provided a much needed pause. He swallowed hard before slipping his hand over the right side of the headrest and wiggling his fingers for Will to hold. It was a simple gesture, so mundane and small yet it spoke so loudly to Will. He felt his face relax, jaw going slack after many uncomfortable hours being clenched. Mike’s hand resting over his shoulder and sliding into his fingers was just the pull he needed to stop sinking for a moment, to catch his breath and come up for air. For a while he just stared at the pale hand blankly, trying to discern if it was really there.

“Th-thanks…” Will croaked out in a half present whisper, his voice almost blending into the breeze.

“For what?” Mike mused, his signature smirk trying to return through the sadness.

“For… this… for sticking with me.”

His words were barely audible, catching in his throat every time he spoke. It was hard for Mike to make out what was being said, but he listened intently. He allowed Will to take the lead, to show him where to go and where to stay away from.

“I— I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you guys. I didn’t want to upset you. I just thought—”

Mike cut him off. He didn’t want to dwell on that right now. “Pfft… upset me? Huh. After everything we’ve been through you really think anything you do could piss me off? Nah Will, I’m stuck to you like gum on the bottom of your shoe, man. You can’t get rid of me.” He teased, hoping it sounded genuine.

“But I— made you guys worry.”

“I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t worry about you, ya know. Right, El?” He turned toward his girlfriend, raising his eyebrows while he awaited her reply.”

“Totally shitty.”

“See, Will. I’d be a real asshole if I let Troy and those mouth breathers pull that shit. It’d be real fucked up if I didn’t notice you’d disappeared or didn’t bother to look. Like, that would be Lando betraying Han level of shitty. Do you really think I’d Lando your ass?” His voice was suddenly so assured, so emphatically honest.

Will’s lips curled in an unexpected smile. Leave it to Mike to know the right words to say as always. “No. I don’t think you’d let the empire get me.”

“See it’s settled then. I’m not a shitty person and you’re worth giving a shit about, William.”

There it was. Every time Mike said his name like that, said his full name, it made butterflies swarm in his stomach. He knew it shouldn’t. Rationally he knew that it went against every natural thing he _should_ feel and yet every time _William_ slipped playfully from Mike’s lips it left him blindsided. It felt like he couldn’t breathe every single goddamn time and that killed him inside. It frustrated him to no end; the fact that his best friend’s voice, the way he said his name made him feel weak in the knees. That was schoolgirl shit. That wasn’t regulation fourteen year old boy behavior. He was acting like a goddamn _fairy— a fruit, a sissy, a fag_. Will could kick himself. Hell he _wanted_ to kick himself if it meant he wasn’t imagining what it would be like to kiss him or picturing the way the corner of Mike’s eyes crinkled when he grinned or the dusting of freckles that read like constellations or the way his curls framed his face and drew Will straight into them. It felt pathetic and gross. These feelings were the things he was taught to hate and in turn he was taught to hate himself—because if those feelings were disgusting and immoral and wrong then he was too.

“Yeah,” He breathed out a lifeless chuckle. “I guess it’s settled.”

Mike regarded him suspiciously, knowing full well that Will had drifted off again, back to _that_ place. Mike wasn’t entirely sure where Will went when he had these moments, but he knew it wasn’t somewhere he’d like to visit. He let out a sigh, letting his shoulders drop as he sunk back into the seat. From what he could tell they were almost back at Will’s, the road growing more and more like home. He fidgeted for a moment before determining he’d reach out to him one last time, to try and pull him away from whatever it was that was eating him up inside. Intent on getting his best friend back, on luring out the Will he knew was hiding, Mike pushed himself forward and leaned his chin on the left side of Will’s headrest.

“You know something?”

Will hummed, distant and drone like.

“ _You have been, and always shall be, my friend._ ” He paused for a moment. “Spock said that to Captain Kirk in _Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan._ Remember? You and me, Will. We’ll always be friends. Always. Okay?”

He waited for Will to respond, to acknowledge his efforts, his desperate attempts to care. But no response came. It was as if Will didn’t hear him or that he didn’t want to and Mike prayed it wasn’t the later. He felt guilty. He knew that he’d been neglecting their friendship recently, favoring time with El over doing “kid stuff” with Will. Deep inside he truly felt bad for brushing him off. He knew he could be a piece of shit sometimes, but he never, _never_ wanted to hurt Will. Mike could kick himself for ignoring all the tell tale signs that Will hadn’t been okay. _You should’ve known, Mike. How could you be such a dick? You expected everything to just go back to how it was before Will disappeared? Hypocrite. Remember what you said to him? “We’re not kids anymore… I mean what’d you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives” And the look on his face.. the devastated, sad look that he gave you when he said yes. When he admitted he really did. Fuck you, Mike._ He sighed, too upset to face Will or El. He slumped further into the seat and waited for the Byers’ drive way to come into view so he could get out of the car. It was starting to feel claustrophobic and he knew Will felt it too. In his heart he knew it was only a matter of time before Will blew up, until he lashed out just like that day. Will was hitting his breaking point, or maybe he’d already hit it? Mike knew this was headed for destroying Castle Byers part two. Or maybe that was part one and Will contemplating jumping off a cliff was part two… a horrible and gut wrenching sequel that Mike was glad never made it past the cutting room floor. But he couldn’t help feeling that there was a still a bomb yet to come, looming overhead and waiting for the signal to flatten Hawkins into a crater. That’s how heavy it felt… and if it felt that heavy for him then how did it feel for Will? What was heavier, more chaotic, more destructive, more devastating than a bomb? Mike wasn’t sure and part of him was too afraid to ask. He wasn’t even certain Will knew the answer, only that whatever it was it was crushing him to death. 

Will could feel Mike’s eyes on him for the remainder of the ride home. It was almost as if they were burning into his skull, into his flesh with their intensity. It made him shiver. The thought that Mike could see right through him was utterly terrifying. He continued to take deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, a technique he was taught by Dr. Owens during his struggle with the mindflayer. Despite the man’s insistence, Will never really felt that it worked. He wondered if it was some sort of placebo and if he just believed hard enough he might feel at ease. The problem was he couldn’t believe. His mind always refused to quiet and follow the flow of his breath. Instead of calm and steady he’d end up with rushed and shallow which inevitably became bouts of hyperventilation. _Get a hold of yourself, Will_. He chided. He pressed his head back into the seat, feeling the gentle veer of the car as Joyce turned into their driveway. He felt his heartbeat quicken, a weird mingling of excitement and disappointment at the prospect of being home. Home was where he wanted to be, where he _needed_ to be and yet he it was the last place he’d expected to return to. In fact he hadn’t expected to return at all, it wasn’t part of his plan. The lights from the living room spilled out onto the porch as the Pinto drew closer to the house. In the window Will could see the shapes of people coming into focus. He recognized them: Jonathan, Nancy, Lucas, Dustin, and Max. The were all packed in tightly, anxiously awaiting his return. Instead of filling him with gratitude and relief he felt an impending sense of dread. Facing them meant facing what happened, what he’d done, who he was. It was all too much to unpack. His head was spinning as the car finally came to a stop. His face felt clammy and hot, the skin of his cheeks blotchy and pink. He knew his mom was studying him with concern at this point, but he didn’t care. He _had_ to get out of the car. His body felt weak as he moved to unbuckle his seatbelt, hand trembling with the release. He slid forward in his seat, another wave of anxiety induced nausea flowing through him with even the slightest movement. Somehow he gathered the strength to push the door open and bolted straight for the front door, ignoring the cries of his mother, of the friends he’d left behind in the car. Swinging open the front door he shut out all and every exclamation of his safety, every concerned and relieved gesture offered. He didn’t want to see any of them right now, not even his brother. He just wanted to be left alone. As Jonathan approached him, weary eyes and warm smile, Will slighted him. He brushed straight past him, bumping Jonathan’s side with his shoulder in an obvious display of teenage angst. Will made a beeline for the bathroom, seeking it’s cold refuge before shutting himself in with a slam of the door and locking out the world.

He wanted nothing more than to be alone as he slunk to the floor, eyes blinded by tears. He had positioned himself next to the toilet, the overwhelming sensation of throwing up creeping nearer and nearer until his head went from resting in the crook of his arm to plunged into the toilet bowl. His throat burned as the little contents of his stomach came rushing back up. His anxieties manifested so viscerally, making him physically ill. He sat there for several moments, desperately clutching the sides of the bowl before reaching a shaky hand to flush. He was so utterly exhausted. His rain soaked clothes still clung to his far too gangly frame and left him feeling cold and uncomfortable. But part of him wanted to be uncomfortable. He felt he deserved it, that he deserved to be miserable. It was a running theme for him. He stayed firmly planted under the window for more minutes than he cared to count, head cradled in his hands. He examined the still fresh cuts and bruises; purple flesh and itching scabs that were just starting to heal. He felt ugly and worthless. It was just one more log added to the impossibly large fire. It had gone from candle to full blown forest fire in a matter of months and now it was completely out of control. He groaned at his own resentment, knowing no normal person would feel this way. He hadn’t been normal in a long time. He wondered if he’d ever been. Will’s mouth felt incredibly dry and gross, the consequence of puking. He padded over to the sink, tilting his head beneath the faucet in an attempt to rinse his mouth. It was no doubt disgusting, but he didn’t care. Feeling disgusting was pretty much all he did these days. As he gripped the sides of the sink, relishing in the minute alone, he heard the inevitable interruption. The sound of his mom’s voice carried through the hall, her footsteps bounding toward his fortress of solitude. His stomach kept doing flips, perpetuating the anxiety he’d just purged from his system moments ago. The loud pounding of Joyce’s fist rang painfully in his ears, a headache blossomed from the base of his head. He prayed for it to stop, for her to just walk away and leave him to wither away into nothing alone. It wasn’t privacy he craved so much as isolation. He felt it was easier that way, a comfortable— or in this case, uncomfortable— distance. Though he knew he couldn’t hide forever and her pounding only grew more incessant.

“Will, sweetie? Please open the door…” Her voice was gentle and soothing, as though she were trying to coax a chick out of its shell.

Will remained silent, either unwilling or unable to answer her. Perhaps a combination of both, but the stillness made Joyce’s hair stand on end. She couldn’t help but fear the worst. He had almost made those fears come true tonight and she wasn’t about to let him slight her. She knocked a little harder this time, letting her desperation fuel the force with which she pounded. Tears welled up in her eyes as she called out his name and received no reply. Her gaze darted back down the hallway and met her eldest. A look of knowing shared between them as Nancy and the kids sat quietly behind him. The atmosphere was tense and somber. Her fist began to ache from the repeated banging and her voice felt raspy and dry, yet she refused to back down. She attempted once last time before she would resort to knocking the door down. She prayed he would respond this time.

“William Byers—” Her voice shook in a mix of anger and panic. “William Byers, you open this door right now, damn it. I’m not messing around. Open the door!” It had become impossible for her to suppress the sobs. “Honey, I’m not mad at you. Please… Please just let me in! I want to help you. Will? Let me help you. I promise everything will be okay. You’re not in trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay. I love you sweetie, so please… open the door.”

There was a painfully deafening silence for several moments before Joyce heard the distinctive jiggle of the handle. Will peered out sheepishly from behind the door, guilt riddled expression etched into his face. She sighed a heavy, relieved breath. He appeared unscathed— at least physically, well if you ignored the pool incident. He stood there awkwardly, arms limp at his sides as he let Joyce push into the narrow bathroom. She drew him into a tight, intense hug that threatened to break him if she squeezed any tighter. Will didn’t resist, he melted into the embrace, needing his mom more than he thought. She searched his face, studied his features for some hint of the son she’d lost track of. He was almost unrecognizable; tear-swollen eyes, pallid complexion, seemingly permanent crease in his forehead from worrying… but most of all, the most unfamiliar thing, was the hollowness in his eyes. They were empty of all the vibrancy he used to carry and that scared her. She held him, time slipping away as they stood there, her face buried into his hair. She held him like she did when he was little, rocking him gently in his disquieted state. Soothing _shhh_ ’s were breathed into his forehead as she stroked his hair. Gazing up for a moment, she locked eyes with Jonathan and motioned him toward the pair with a tilt of her head. This was something they needed to do as a family.

“Hey, bud.” Jonathan Whispered. “Wanna go sit with me in my room? I made you a new mix tape— a lot of neat stuff on there. I think you’re really gonna like it… maybe we could give it a listen and if it’s okay with you we can have a little talk. Just you and me?”

Will avoided his eyes, staring at the floor. Jonathan turned toward his mom, concerned face begging for some back up.

“Look. I know you don’t wanna talk. I know you’re scared and overwhelmed and everything feels like shit. But I can’t watch you go through this anymore..” His voice broke before could get out the words.

“Will. Honey… please. Please talk to us. We’re not gonna get mad at you. I know that’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it? I promise nothing you could do would ever make me stop loving you, okay? I’m your mom.”

“You say that… you say that, but what if— you don’t _know_ that. You don’t know if you’ll still want me as your son once I tell you. I can’t… I can—” He trembled, his voice barely above a whisper as he pictured the consequences of confessing.

Joyce regarded him with so much heartache, her chest feeling as if would burst open any second. She gave him a one handed squeeze, her arm wrapped around his shoulder as she guided him toward his brother’s room.

  
“It’ll be okay. I’m not going anywhere. Remember what you promised me, Will? No more secrets.”

As Joyce and his brother disappeared into his room, Jonathan gave one last look at Nancy before heading off himself. His eyes said it all: _Give us some space._ Nancy nodded at him, understanding the weight of the situation and ushered the gang of teens outside onto the porch. They weren’t leaving just yet— just giving the family some privacy. Jonathan had a feeling Will would be needing his friends when this was all over and he didn’t know what was the right thing was exactly, but he felt in his heart that turning them away would be counter productive. And so once they were at a safe distance, groans and questions peppering the air as Nancy ushered them out, Jonathan slipped away into his bedroom. He was in no way prepared for what his brother might say, for what might be revealed between them… but how could he be? You can’t predict the world falling out from under you. The best you can do is try, try and keep showing up for the people you love most. As he closed the door he could see Joyce rubbing gentle circles into Will’s back, leaning into his shoulder as she held him. Jonathan approached the bed carefully, wanting to ease into this as gently as possible for all of their sakes. He slid onto the bed, shifting his weight as he reached toward his desk and grabbed a small plastic rectangle. He gingerly passed it to Will, transferring his labor of love to new hands. _Will’s ’85 Summer Mix._ Will let out a habitual smile, a gesture of his gratefulness, though it was still distant.

“Thanks…” He mumbled.

Jonathan gave his own weak smile before trying to ease into the heavy ordeal before them with some small talk.

“I tried to put a lot of _good_ stuff on there— you’ve heard some of them before, but I thought I’d put ‘em all together for you… if you want. It’s got It’s got Tears For Fears, Joy Division, Depeche Mode, Talking Heads, Bronski Beat, Oingo Boingo, The Smiths, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Cure, Descendants— I think you’re really gonna like that one.” He said, pointing to the last track. His voice had a tinge of sadness to it, enough for Will to notice and internalize it.

Will held the tape in his hands, turning it slowly as if he didn’t know what to do with it. His body began to shake, he was unable to hold back tears. _Why? Why is he so kind to you? All you ever do is screw up._ He leaned into his brother, heavy wet tears mixing with snot soaked into Jonathans shirt. He exchanged worried glances with his mom, both of them at a loss. The only thing either of them could think to do was attempt to console him. What that meant neither was sure, but they were determined to try.

“Will? Honey, it’s just us now. You can talk to us okay?” Joyce’s tone was soft and gentle, nothing like what Will felt he deserved.

He nodded through hiccups and sobs, trying to compose himself enough to let something out, anything. He cradled his head in his hands before the levy burst and the long hidden emotions, the long stuffed down suffering and anxiety all came pouring out in violent succession. Jonathan and Joyce braced themselves for the outpouring of pent up angst that was about to rain down. Curling in on himself, Will finally let them in, voice trembling and catching with every word; wet and distorted through his tears. He ranted and rambled, his words not always coherent, but it didn’t matter. He was finally opening up, _finally_ allowing his family to be there for him.

“I— I’m so sorry.” He sobbed. “I’m so fucking sorry… I didn’t want any of this to happen. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I just… everything. It’s too much. I didn’t know what else to do. Mom… I’m sorry okay? I just didn’t want to feel this way anymore. It hurts so bad. I wanted it to go away. I’m tired of feeling like this. I hate myself! I fucking hate myself and I don’t want to be me anymore. I’m tired of being Will. Everyone fucking pities me. I see the way they look at me! _Oh poor Will! He’s so helpless! Worthless! Stupid! Sad! Pathetic!”_ His voice was louder than he intended, but he didn’t care. “I’m so sick of everyone treating me like a baby! Of not letting me make my own decisions, of ‘protecting’ me when I didn’t fucking ask them too! Everyone does it! My teachers, my friends, even _you_!” His tone was so pointed as he gestured wildly, looking Joyce right in the eyes.

“Will… I— I had no idea. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, that wasn’t my intention. I was just so— so worried about you. You’re my kid and I’m gonna be protective, I’m gonna worry. I can’t help it! That’s what parents do, honey.”

“Not dad.”

Joyce’s heart sank into her stomach. She felt an immense guilt wash over her.

“Will, I—”

He clenched his jaw. “I don’t blame you, mom. It’s not your fault. I just… I just wanted so badly for dad to— to want to spend time with me. I wanted him to be proud of me. When everyone looks at me like that it’s like _he’s_ looking at me. Like he’s disappointed in me. I know he is. Don’t lie, mom. I’ve heard what he’s said about me and Jonathan. I’m not a kid anymore… I know what he meant. It hurts so fucking much!” He didn’t care that he was cursing at this point. He just needed to let it out. “I know how he really feels about me— and I have to live with that everyday. I hate it! It makes me feel sick. I feel so pathetic and small and worthless. I just feel empty. When I hear Lucas and Mike talk about their dads my heart hurts... I don’t want it to, but it does. I _wish_ dad would come home and fall asleep in front of the TV and tell me I’m too old to play video games and still take me to the arcade anyway. I want him to put my art on the fridge and say: _That’s my son!_ But he won’t because he’s ashamed of me! And he’s right to be… I’m a bad kid. I’m not normal. I’m broken.”

At this point Jonathan and Joyce were both reduced to tears, eyes red rimmed and sniffling noses. Joyce squeezed Will’s hand, searching for any words to comfort him.

“Will, honey, I know. I know how hard that must be for you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry Lonnie can’t be what you want him to be— what I want him to be. But you’re not broken, you’re not a bad kid! You’re sensitive and kind and creative. I love those things about you. So do your friends. We all love you.”

“But those are the things dad hated.” His voice cracked. “I acted like a girl… I did— do everything wrong. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about how much he hates me and how he was right. I’m… I’m not like Jonathan, or Dustin, or Lucas, or Mike… I’m—” He couldn’t manage the words. Tears continually streaming from his eyes. His body shook with every breath and he could feel the panic rising inside him.

“You’re what?” Joyce led.

“I wanted to die tonight.” He said bluntly. “I ran away… I was gonna jump because I couldn’t take it anymore. I don’t want to be like this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I thought it would make everything better. I feel like a waste of space, like everyone hates me. I can’t even go to school without people saying it... calling me a freak... fa—” He stopped himself, too afraid to admit the truth out loud.

“Will,” Jonathan Held his hand. “You don’t have to… you don’t have to worry about that from me and mom. I would never say shit like that to you, ever. I know mom wouldn’t. We’re not dad, we’re not Troy or James or Mark. I’m not gonna stop being your big brother just because you’re different. Remember? I’m a freak… it’s okay to not be like everyone else.”

“Yeah… but, being a freak, being weird or whatever— nerdy, quiet, not liking music on the radio… those are things you can change… I didn’t choose this, I didn’t want it, and I can’t change it…” Will was drifting away again. His face grew sheet white, puffy eyes and red nose the only signs of color left.

“Of course you didn’t choose that, sweetie. I wish I could take away what happened. I tried to keep you safe, but I couldn’t….”

“Mom, that’s not—” The words were even more strained than before, barely audible as he tried to be honest. It was so painful, like a hot knife twisting in his gut. It reminded him of the blinding pain he awoke to after Nancy burned the mindflayer out of him. He’d just have to sweat this out. _Man up. Stop being a fucking pussy and just say it!_

Jonathan could sense the tension, the sheer turmoil wrecking havoc on his brother’s psyche. It was so painful, too difficult to watch. He couldn’t bear seeing him in like this. It was too many times to count now, too many times to have seen Will suffer. He just wanted to make it all go away, to save Will from the things that scared him most, but Jonathan knew he wasn’t capable. He tried to think quickly, to give him some relief, but all his senses failed him. Everything was moving dreadfully slow and steaming just beneath the surface. Jonathan felt himself grip the sheets tightly beneath his fingers, his own tension spilling out. He felt angry— not at Will, but at the world. He was angry that his brother was too afraid just be a kid, to be himself, to be honest. He felt as though he could punch something. Hell, he _wanted_ to punch something, or rather _someone_. He thought of Troy and Mark’s smug faces, the sneers that must’ve lived there from being consistently hateful. It made him sick. In his mind, Jonathan knew that if he ran into either of them within the next couple of days he wouldn’t be able to hold back. He knew it’d be a trip back to the police station while he waited for Hop, chained to a desk. If it was for Will though… it was worth it. Jonathan needed him to know that. He needed to show Will that he _was_ worth it. Will was the most important thing in the world to him and he would proudly admit that. He was never, never ashamed of Will. He wasn’t sure if he ever could be. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, hoping that what came next would be the right thing. 

“Will.” Jonathan’s voice was monotone and strangely calm. “You don’t have to…” He trailed off before sliding to the edge of the bed. He stretched toward his desk, hands searching the wood until the found a drawer pull. His finger twitched nervously as he felt Joyce and Will watching him, eyes intent and curious. He wondered if this was the wrong decision, but it was too late to back down now— his hands were already holding the papers. 

Will held Jonathan in his gaze, eyes fixed on his fingers as they reappeared from under the top of his desk clutching crinkled, taped together sketches. _Your sketches._ His heart sank into his stomach, the sensation threatening him with another wave of nausea. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing bigger and bigger as utter panic welled up inside him and threatened to rip him apart. He watched in horrified shock as Jonathan lay the images on the bed, sliding them toward him with out a word. _Shit. Shit. Shit. He knows! He knows, Will! You stupid piece of shit!_ He knew his face gave him away. He knew the terror swimming in his eyes was enough to speak for him, yet every part of him wanted to deny the truth. The truth may set you free, but it’s also the most horrifying thing in the world. Will looked between Jonathan and his mom, pausing too long on the drawings, his drawings. He felt his lip shake as he searched for words, his breath hitching with every exhale. Joyce wrapped her arms around him even tighter, holding him so as to offset the shaking, to force him to come back down. All Will could think to do was run. In what capacity he didn’t know. _Withdraw? Don’t answer? Get Defensive? Hide— in the bathroom? In the woods? Steal the car?_ His mind was racing a million miles a second with no time to stop and ask for directions. He felt hopeless and alone despite being with the two people who loved him most. He continued to shake in his mom’s arms, chest heaving as he hyperventilated until he felt Jonathan graze off the bed and onto the floor. He couldn’t look him in the eye, even as he knelt in front of him with the hastily taped sketch grasped in his trembling hands. Jonathan placed it in his lap and gripped Will by the shoulders with gentle force. The gesture brought Will’s mind to a full and complete stop. He had nowhere left to go. He reluctantly faced his brother, eyes flooded with tears as the two stared at each other.

With closed eyes and a hushed voice Jonathan sighed: “Will… I know.” He paused for a moment, trying to gauge his brother’s reaction, but the boy made no sound. Will just stared into his lap, hands absently holding on to the edges of the drawing as he cried.

“You don’t have to tell me… I already know. I—”

“No.” Was the only word that left Will’s lips. It was an emphatic, pointed _no_. He meant it to be hurtful. He wanted Jonathan to hate him, to be angry at him. He was convinced this was all a joke, a punishment— to make him think everything was fine before it all came crumbling down on top of him, before his mom and brother told him they never wanted to see him again. His face was hot and his body was so tired, but all he wanted to do was resist. Resist. Resist. Resist. Joyce couldn’t take it anymore. This was worse than pulling teeth. It wasn’t so much impossible as heart wrenching and she wasn’t prepared to keep this up all night. This was the end of the line. She wasn’t letting him run away this time.

“No Will!” She yelled, but it wasn’t angry. “No… You— you’re not leaving this room until you tell me and Jonathan what’s going on!”

Will’s eyes widened in shock. He’d never heard Joyce get this upset with him. It felt awful. Everything felt awful, but he knew there was no way he could convince them to leave him alone. This was it, the moment he’d been dreading. He had hoped that he’d never have to get here, that his plans at the quarry would’ve worked, but here he was. He was stuck in his worst nightmare with no means of waking up and it was time he faced the truth. There was no telling it to go away or taking deep breaths, he had to take the plunge and face certain risk of drowning. He swallowed hard before trying to collect his words, eyes scrunched tight. He threw his head back and opened his eyes to meet the ceiling, he couldn’t look at his family… yet.

“If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t hate me… promise you’ll still love me.” He sounded as if he would break at any moment.

“Will…. Why would you think that? How could either of us ever hate you? Not possible. Not in a million, trillion years, kiddo. I promise I love you. Always.” Joyce assured through a tearful smile.

Will held his drawing, studying the careful way in which he rendered his deepest, darkest secret; his greatest desire. He let out a sad smirk, appraising both what it meant and what its truth could do. He gripped it tight in his hands before opening a door he knew he could never close again, one that he could never go back through. It came out in a series of sobs, long and meandering babbles that strung together _years_ worth of anxiety.

“ I’m so scared, mom… I— I don’t want to be like this. I tried! I tried so hard to be normal. I really, really tried, but I’m not. No matter how much I wanted to be, no matter how much dad drilled it in, or how much the things people said hurt… I couldn’t do it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I just want to be normal! I don’t want to hate myself or feel disgusting every time I think about _it_. I hate being this way… I hate how I can’t stop…” He looked at his family, studying their expressions before dropping his gaze toward his knees and feeling the bruise on his side. “This…” he gestured to the various cuts and bruises littering his body “I deserved this.” His voice was somber and dry, completely serious.

“Will, what the fuck?” Jonathan shouted. “How could you think that?! You didn’t fucking deserve that, no one deserves that…” His shoulders dropped, a defeated look cementing itself on his face.

“I did! I fucking deserved it! Dad always said faggots don’t deserve to live.”

Joyce felt as if she was going to be sick. Her ex husband, Lonnie, he’d said a lot of awful things, but she had always tried to keep the boys away from it. She’d fought so hard to let them make their own conclusions and learn lessons away from hate, but Lonnie— Lonnie was a piece of shit.

“Honey…” But he didn’t let her finish.

“At the pool. It was Troy and Mark and some other high schoolers. They saw me… I— was looking at him. At Mark. I couldn’t help it,” He buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t want to! I didn’t mean to, but I did. I looked at him… and they _knew_.” His voice took on a bitter, disgusted tone. “They knew I was—They followed me into the locker room and just kept shouting at me, hitting me over and over. They yelled: Fairy, sissy, queer…. _Cock sucker. Faggot. Faggot,. Faggot..._ ” He whispered, tears dripping off the end of his nose. “They beat me up because I’m gay. Because I’m a disgusting freak who likes boys instead of girls!” The truth finally left him, his body collapsing back onto the bed with the last desperate sobs.

Jonathan felt the inevitable anger come rushing out of him full force, unable to hold back. “So what? You’re gay? Do you think that matters to me, Will? To mom? I’m your brother... we’re your family. I love you. Fuck dad. Fuck Troy, Mark, and all those other shit heads. There’s nothing wrong with being gay, okay?”

“But there is Jonathan! Don’t you watch the news?” He hiccuped through his cries. “Do you hear what people say about being gay? Do you know how people treat you for something you never asked for? Do you know how it feels to go to a friend’s house and hear their dad sing the praises of some stupid politician that doesn’t give a shit about whether you live or die because you’re a ‘sinner’?” He was becoming breathless and distraught. “I’m not some stupid kid who doesn’t understand the world, okay?”

Joyce pulled her son into the tightest hug he’d ever felt— even tighter than when he’d woken up after the mindflayer or came back from the upside down. She cradled him in her arms, rocking gently as she rubbed soothing circles into his back.

“I’m so scared… I’m scared of what’s gonna happen to me. What if people find out? What if my friends find out?”

“We’ll deal with it.” Joyce dropped. “We’ll deal with it like we always do. Jonathan and I aren’t going anywhere and whatever happens, sweetie, I won’t give up. Okay? I promise.”

Will gave a tearful nod. “I just want to be happy. I’m so afraid I’ll never be happy.” He whispered as he clung tightly to the reassembled drawing in his hands, sliding a finger over the figure of Mike.

Joyce caught him out of the corner of her eye. She watched him as she carefully chose her words.

“You will. I believe you will. You have so many people that love you and I know you love them.”

“But what if… what if it’s the wrong kind of love?” He sighed, looking Joyce right in the eyes, face awash with sadness.

“What do you mean?” It was a completely innocent question that left Will’s stomach reeling.

“I mean what if I like one of my friends…what if I fall in love with—”

“Mike?” Jonathan cut in.

Will’s face went white as he sat frozen in fear. It was as if every secret part of him had been ripped out and laid bare on the bed for his family to examine. He swallowed hard, not knowing what to do. He fidgeted briefly before admitting to himself that being honest was far better than carrying everything around, bottled up inside until it exploded.

“Mike.” Will parroted. “Fuck Mike.” But he didn’t mean it like that, he didn’t mean it to sound spiteful or angry. “I hate this so much! I don’t want to like him like that! I don’t want to feel this way, but every time I see him and El… when they hold hands, or hug, or… kiss. It hurts in my chest and I want to scream. It’s like I want to piss her off… El I mean. I want her to hate Mike so they won’t be together anymore and it makes me feel like such an asshole. This whole summer it’s been burning a hole in my chest. It’s so heavy… like everyday I feel like I might explode and I just want to disappear. Every time I see one of my friends kiss their girlfriends or hold their hand during a movie I get so angry and jealous… but I don’t want a girlfriend. I want it to be me! Me and Mike. I feel so gross just saying it. I hate that I feel that way… It’s wrong, it has to be wrong? What happens if the party finds out? What happens if Mike and El know? What do I do?” He was practically shaking as he paced around the room, some how still able to cry, even after all the tears he’d shed already.

“Sweetie, if they’re really your friends they won’t care. They’ll still love you. I don’t think it matters if you don’t like girls. Real friends wouldn’t stop wanting you around just because you’re a little different.” Joyce smiled as she clasped his hand in hers.

“But what if they find out I like Mike?”

“I don’t know, Will. Unfortunately I don’t have the answer. I think that one’s up to you.” She frowned. “But I think that if Mike, Lucas, Dustin, El, and Max are really your friends they won’t stop wanting to hang out with you. Trust your mom on that, okay?”

Will gave an apprehensive nod as his mom pulled him in for a hug. Jonathan joined them, the trio huddled close on his mattress. They sat there for several moments in each other’s embrace, acknowledging how difficult, overwhelming, and exhausting this had all been; especially for Will. After a few minutes Jonathan slipped out of the hug and crept back out to the hallway, letting his mom and brother know he was going to find Nancy before deciding on the next move. Joyce acknowledged him before returning to Will, holding his face in her hands and tears in her eyes.

“I love you so, so much. Will. Don’t you ever, ever think I don’t. And please… please be honest with me when things are hurting you. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. I promise it’ll all be okay.”

Silent nods were exchanged between them before a knock on the door drew them away from their heart to heart. It was Jonathan.

“Hey, so Nancy and the gang went to the drive in and got some ice cream.” He smiled. “They brought you back—”

“Chocolate chip?” Will beamed.

“Chocolate chip.” Jonathan laughed as Will brushed past him and toward the living room. It seemed that a huge weight had slowly started to lift and that for once in a long time something as simple as ice cream could lift Will’s spirits.

Will had been so tired of holding everything in, of feeling the weight of the world on top of him. He was so glad to finally feel like he could take a breath, to actually feel air in his lungs. Despite all the pain, the anger, the anxiety, and exhaustion he’d held, Will desperately wanted to know the truth. To know it and tell it and feel it. Joyce’s words rang in his head. _If they’re your real friends they won’t care._ He hoped to god she was right. He hoped more than anything in the world that his friends wouldn’t hate him if they ever knew. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell them or if he ever would be, but right now he knew he wanted to see them. He wanted Dustin, Max, Lucas, El, and Mike to know he was okay— that everything was going to be fine. He felt so guilty for making them worry, for causing them anxiety. It was the last thing he wanted. All these thoughts raced through his mind in rapid succession as he made his way toward the living room area. The soft padding of his feet on the floor carried through the hall into the eager ears of his friends. “Will!” El exclaimed as she pushed herself off the floor and slid him into a tight hug. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with several attempts to hug him from every direction, each one of his friends vying for a shot at testing if he was really okay. It felt strange. It was uncomfortable for Will to actually believe they cared about him, yet in his heart he knew it had to be true. He let himself fall victim to their swarm and they toppled over in a tangle of elbows and knees, laughs and groans echoing out into the room. As Will lay there on the ground, enjoying the simplicity for a moment, he watched Jonathan and Nancy tiptoe out of the room. Jonathan gave him a small wave, letting him know he’d be outside if he needed anything before stepping out onto the porch. Will tilted his head to the side, eyes meeting El’s. Her face was occupied by a huge, relieved grin as she moved to help him up, tugging him toward the couch. The party settled around him as if they would start telling campfire stories, waiting for someone to say something before Dustin handed him the coveted treasure; _chocolate chip ice cream._ They’d gotten him right where they wanted him.

“What were you thinking man?” Lucas slapped his shin with the back of his hand.

The party all looked on intently, nodding in unison— all of them itching to know what had happened.

“A lot…” Will couldn’t find the words.

“Enough to—” Dustin smacked his palms together, mimicking a bug getting squashed.

Max scoffed, rolling her eyes and mouthing _really?_ as she gave Dustin a judgmental glare. Will swallowed hard. He knew it wasn’t meant to upset him, but it left him feeling a little empty inside and he knew it might be a while before that emptiness subsided.

“We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to.” Mike interjected. Will was so grateful, though he knew he probably _should_ tell his friends what happened not just tonight, but what’s been happening for weeks, months, years.

“No…. It’s okay.” He paused. “Yeah, enough to—” He copied Dustin’s motion from earlier. “I’m sorry, guys. It just all felt so overwhelming…. I didn’t want to think about anything anymore. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Those assholes won’t be bothering you anymore.” Mike stated.

“Yeah, Hop took care of ‘em.” El smiled.

“Thanks guys. I— I appreciate it. But it wasn’t just them. It’s me… I just. I felt really lonely. Like I know you guys are my friends, but I felt like no one cared. I’ve been feeling like this for a while…” He trailed off, clutching his chest as he thought about what he might say. “I never wanted to hurt any of you, I swear. Things just were just too much. I couldn’t stand being left out all the time anymore, being the third wheel or whatever. It sucked. I felt like no one even knew I was there. And it just kept building and building until it exploded….” He eyed them cautiously, hoping no one would press too much more. Spilling his guts to his family was enough for one night… for a lifetime.

“We never meant to make you feel like we were ignoring you, man. We’re all kinda new to the having girlfriends thing—” Lucas offered.  


“I know, I’m not mad or anything. I know you weren’t trying to ignore me. And it wasn’t just that. I—” He cut himself off, afraid of where he was going.

His friends just stared at him, concerned looks plastered to their faces as they wondered what he wasn’t telling them. None of them felt bold enough to press him so they sat for a moment in silence until it became too awkward.

“I’m not… I’m not like you guys. I was jealous. I’m jealous that you all have girlfriends and go on dates and hang out and whatever.”

“Come on, Will! It’ll happen! Even Dustin got a girlfriend!” Lucas jabbed his friend lightly.

Will sighed, a mix of fear and adrenaline pushing him to go against every one of his instincts. “That’s not what I meant…” He looked around gaging the room, making sure it was just him and his friends. “I want to tell you… but I’m scared you won’t want to be my friends anymore.” Will was now regretting this with every fiber of his being.

The group exchanged confused glances between them. What the hell was Will so worried about? El bit her lip as she looked at Mike, both of them deciding they were tired of Will’s avoidance.

“Will,” Mike pressed. “I’ve known you since fucking kindergarten. You’d have to murder me to get rid of me!” He grinned as he patted his best friend on the shoulder.

Every ounce of him was tense. This was it, this was the moment he’d dreaded for so long and now there was no way of avoiding it. Part of Will wanted to cry, to run away and hide again, but he knew that wasn’t an option, he’d already started to tell them. He’d already opened that door with Joyce and now it was time to rip off the bandaid because he never knew if he’d get another chance. He was too afraid that if he didn’t tell them now then he never would and he was terrified of the thought of them finding out through a rumor. So Will decided to bite the bullet, to risk it all, and be honest with everyone including himself.

“I’m not gonna have a girlfriend—”

“Come on, man! Don’t say tha—” But Will didn’t let Lucas finish. He closed his eyes, unable to handle the looks they might give him as the words came pouring out. Despite his fear he took the plunge.

“I’m not gonna have a girlfriend because I…” His mouth was suddenly so dry, desperate for moisture. “I’m gay.”

The room fell silent, wide eyed expressions occupying each of his friends’ faces. They were presumably shocked, Will had just dropped a bomb on them after all. The overwhelming quiet sank into the room, lasting much too long for anyone’s comfort and yet no one dared speak a word. Will shifted in his seat, praying that he didn’t just make the biggest mistake of his life. He took several deep breaths as he watched the ice cream in his hand slowly melt. It was the only thing he could really think to focus on as everything else seemed far too intense. It went on like this for several moments, awkward and stiff. No one was sure exactly what to do, hoping that someone else would say something until the silence finally broke. Will looked up from the collecting pool of melted dairy in his hand to see Lucas walking out the front door and towards his bike. Will’s heart sank, eyes filling up with tears as he watched his friend disappear into the summer night. He wanted to call out, to beg him to come back, but he couldn’t. He felt the ice cream cone slip from his hand and crash on the floor as the screen door slammed again. Max’s red locks swung loosely behind her as she chased Lucas down.

“Lucas! Lucas come back! What the fuck are you doing?” They could all hear her as she ran out into the yard.

Will buried his head in his hands, not caring whether he got chocolate chip ice cream in his hair or not. He was devastated. His heart was racing, his worst fears were coming true. _They hate you_. He swallowed hard before feeling a warm squeeze just above his knee. It was Mike.

“That was really brave, Will. Like… really fucking brave.” His eyes darted to the floor before he pulled Will into a tight hug. “I’m super proud of you for telling us, I don’t think I could’ve done that…. It must’ve sucked major ass to hold all that in.” He said as he pulled away, eyes bright and happy.

Will wiped tears away as he let out a small laugh, taking in relieved smiles on El, Dustin, and Mike’s faces. He allowed himself to give a slight nod, acknowledging and appreciating their support.

“I don’t know what his problem is…” Dustin trailed looking in the direction of Lucas. “It’s like anytime he finds out something new his brain explodes.”

“He’ll be back. I know he will.” El smiled up at him as she stroked his hand. “I’m glad you told us.” The look in her eyes told Will that she meant it wholeheartedly.

Will sighed as he let his friends comfort him. He never could’ve known how things might turn out, he had never wanted to know, but he guessed that this was best case scenario— only some of your friends turning against you. It hurt. It really fucking hurt, but if Lucas had left then maybe it was for the best? Maybe Lucas wasn’t who he thought he was. It still didn’t make it any easier to deal with, but Will hoped it would become less painful in time. These thoughts continued to play out even as Max came back inside and sat beside them. She gave him a hug, said something about how brave he was and took her place next to El. It was nice, but it didn’t feel complete. It didn’t feel worth it if only some of them still cared about him.

“I—I’m sorry, man.” _It was Lucas?_ Standing to the side and out of breath, Lucas held something out to Will. Everyone looked at him as if they were about to shoot daggers from their eyes. “Wha— What did I do!?”

“You ran off without saying anything dipshit!” Dustin barked.

“Real nice, Lucas! You probably made Will think you hated him or something!” Max was fuming.

“What? Hate him? No! I went to get this!” He held up an X-men comic, still new and wrapped up in plastic. “I was gonna save this for your birthday! But you’ve had a shitty ass week and so I thought I’d give it to you now… _Uncanny X-men_ Days of Future Past arc. Sweet right?”

Will looked up at him, tears in his eyes. _He still wants to be your friend? He wanted to give you this? He cares about you? They all care about you?_ Will pushed himself up off the coach and wrapped Lucas into a tight, long hug. He couldn’t even find the words to express how grateful, how happy he was. For the first time in a long time Will felt at ease.

“Yeah, pretty sweet.” He smiled, teeth on full display. “Thank you.”

“See, _Max. Dustin._ I’m not that big of an asshole.” Lucas snarked.

“Only sometimes,” Will blurted, eyes going wide with the realization of what he’d said.

The party stared at him for a moment, amused looks occupying their faces before they burst out into their own fits of laughter. It felt good. Good to laugh, to laugh with, laugh at.

“So you guys don’t hate me?” He looked around apprehensively.

“Dude, the fuck? Of course not.” Mike nudged his shoulder.

“Even though I’m gay?”

“Geez, Will is it so hard for you to believe that people might actually care about you?” Max teased lightly.

He felt a slight blush creep across his cheeks as his friends smiled at him, welcoming him in despite all the resistance he’d put up.

“I have a question though… If you’re gay… that means you like boys, right?” Dustin mused.

“Well, duh!” Lucas exclaimed

“I wasn’t asking you, Lucas! I was asking Will!” He sneered at him. “Anyway… so if you like boys… does that mean you like _us?_ ”

Will felt himself turn red, his face and ears growing hot. He was in no way prepared for this and he had had no intention of ever telling any of them his deepest, most secret feelings. He tried to pull himself together, to find his words before coming undone like the loose knot he already was.

“You guys?” He looked between his three best friends nervously. “Nah… not— no way.”

His answer didn’t seem to please them. Groans and sighs escaped from Lucas and Dustin, disappointed that they weren’t up to Will’s “standards.”

“Really?! Why? You don’t think we’re cute? Steve says I’m adorable?” Dustin was in utter shock.

“Sorry to break it to you, Dustin, but since when does Steve know everything?” Lucas chided.

“Well I’m glad Will doesn’t think you guys are cute or else I’d have to fight him. He knows I’m the jealous type.” Max winked at him, coaxing a small laugh from Will.

They all sat there for several more minutes laughing and joking with each other, almost as if nothing new had been revealed, nothing at all. It was just like old times, the way Will liked it, the way he had longed for it to be all summer long. The heaviness that had plagued him for so long had begun to slip away, though he knew it would never truly leave. Being honest with his friends and family was a big step, and the only step that he now knew was safe to take. Will was content with that. He was fine just being honest on an individual level, for he was certain the world wasn’t—and might never be— ready for that honesty. So Will decided to sit back and enjoy the company of his friends, the knowledge that they _absolutely_ gave a shit about him, and that they were loyal through and through. No matter what. As the evening drew on, after all the relieved exchanges and friendly reminiscing, the party came to the conclusion that maybe it was time to go their separate ways for the night and reconvene the next day— or as long as Will needed to recover. Their gestures of kindness made his heart swell, he couldn’t begin to express how grateful he was for every last one of them. He felt as though he was undeserving of such love, something he knew he needed to come to terms with; feeling worthy. As his friends said their goodbyes and filed out of the living room one by one he noticed El and Mike staying behind. He watched as Dustin, Lucas, and Max reached the end of his driveway and waved them off as they sped down the road. He was part relieved, part crestfallen; happy to catch his breath and yet sad that they weren’t there to do so with him. He looked at the pair on the floor in front of him; his best friend and his girlfriend. He wouldn’t deny that they made a cute couple. That was objective, even he knew that. But despite everything, everything he’d admitted to himself and opened up about, seeing them together still hurt. He could feel his expression sink as their heads cradled into the other, as El kissed him before getting up and walking outside to the porch where Joyce was now smoking. It struck him as curious. El hadn’t said a word, she’d just left him with Mike, like there was something she wanted them to work out… something she knew that he didn’t.

Mike?”

“Yeah, Will?” He slid his body next to him, sitting only inches away.

“Thank you.” Will swallowed hard. His heart beating so fast he could practically hear it.

“For what? Being your friend? You don’t have to thank me. Thank El, she found you.”

Will nodded, fidgeting with his watch as he stared at his feet. There were so many things he wanted to say to Mike, so many things he wished he could tell him, but he knew he couldn’t. Or maybe it was shouldn’t. He struggled for several moments, sitting in silence until he felt Mike’s hand slip into his. A small gasp escaped him, reactive and unintentional.

“Mike— I….” He trailed off, voice dipping low and confused. His tone prompted a concerned frown from his friend before he continued. “You know how when Dustin and Lucas asked how I felt about you guys?”

Mike hummed, not daring to say a word, only intent on listening.

“Well… I wasn’t totally honest. I don’t. I didn’t want to say anything— or say it in front of anyone.” He breathed a shaky sigh. His heart was beating unbelievably fast and he felt like he might pass out. Maybe admitting it was _worse_ than keeping it in. “I was jealous. Of you and El…. Not because you guys are together, but because _you_ have a girlfriend. I don’t even know why I’m saying this— I don’t want want to say it! I don’t want to feel like this… I’ve tried to just stop, but I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I can’t…. Mike? I like you. I’ve liked you for such a long time and I can’t stand it. You don’t know how shitty it’s been trying not to feel like this about you, trying not to hate El— because I don’t! I don’t hate her…. But every time you guys hang out with out me or hold hands or kiss in front of me I get so- so angry. I’m sorry, Mike. I really wish I wasn’t like this, that I didn’t feel like this, but I do! I get if you don’t want to be my fri—”

“Will,” He cut him off. “It’s okay. I’m not mad or anything.” He gave him a large, warm smile. “I’m actually kinda flattered to be honest.”

“What?”

“Seriously! I have shit self esteem so it kinda makes me feel good that my best friend likes me likes me.” He laughed.

“You’re sure you’re not mad…. It doesn’t gross you out?”

“Pfft, no. And El’s not either. She kinda told me she thought you might have a crush on me… which I totally didn’t believe, because I barely believed when El told me she liked me— I was convinced it was just because I was the first boy she’d met. So I kinda figured she was sorta crazy to think that you liked me… but I’m glad you told me.”

A giant, unrestrained sigh broke free into the room and Will felt himself relax. He turned to face Mike, a truly appreciative smile fixed in place. The two hugged each other long and tight, letting the other know without words how much they cared about the other. As they let go Mike stared at Will for a moment as if he were studying him. Will felt a confusing twinge of excitement and anxiety welling up inside him. The two boys stood there for several moments before Will finally heard Mike’s voice again.

“I— I’m really sorry for everything that’s happened. I’m sorry I ignored you and didn’t want to play d&d with you. I’m sorry I let those assholes beat you up. I’m sorry I’ve been a shitty friend and—”

“Mike. It’s okay. You’re not a shitty friend. I promise.”

“But I feel like I am, Will! I feel like I fucked up and I hurt you and that’s not cool! I let my dad say shit in front of you, me and the guys made shitty jokes. We hurt your feelings! Let me say I’m sorry!”

And before Will could realize what was happening Mike’s lips were pressed against his, soft and gentle just like he’d imagined. The kiss barely lasted more than a few seconds, but it felt like lifetimes to Will. He was both shocked and content. He’d never wanted anything more in his whole life and yet here it was, just handed to him. When Mike pulled away his face was flustered and pink, an emotion hidden under the surface that Will couldn’t quite understand. The two boys stood in silence for several moments before Will felt compelled to break it, wondering if this was all in his head.

“What? Why?”

“I— I don’t know…” Mike looked sufficiently shocked, as if he really meant those words. “I… I just wanted to know what it was like to kiss you. I’m sorry… I probably just fucked everything up.” He turned away, too embarrassed to face Will.

Will stood there awkwardly, not knowing quite what to say. His brows knit together as he gathered his senses. He stepped forward and pulled Mike into a hug.

“Thank you. I mean it.” He whispered.

“You—you’re welcome, William.”

Will melted a little more into the hug before pulling away, a new found sense of joy washing over him. He knew that this was a one time thing, but that was enough. It was enough to have had Mike make every single wish come true even for a moment.

“This is just between you and me, okay?” Mike begged. It was obvious this hadn’t been planned and that he was still very much in love with Elven.

“What’s just between us, _Michael?_ ” He winked. _Nothing. Nothing at All_.


	10. Good Good Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets some much needed time to just enjoy being fourteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so very sorry this took forever. I got a new job and things became hectic and I barely had the spoons to write, but here we are (and it’s a long one!) I am sad to say that we have reached the end of our story my dear, lovely readers. It has been an amazing journey from start to finish and I’m so glad that you’ve stayed along for the ride. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for, the reprieve to my torment of poor William. I’m not sure warnings apply to this chapter— it’s pretty happy and has a fair amount of wholesome fluff. I just want our boy to have a good time so I gave him one. I’m sorry if this is full of clichés and whatnot, I’m afraid I’m better at writing heartache and depression than fun, but I tried! Thank you for sticking around and for all the love. As always critiques and feedback are highly welcomed. I appreciate you all 💜💜💜  
> This song for this chapter is “Good Good Things” by the Descendants. It’s strikes me as a sort of hopeful song, like having the courage to be honest. Anyway this song sets the tone for our final chapter:
> 
> So come on down and walk with me, and tell me I'm your man  
> I only want to know a couple of things about you  
> Where were you when I was in so much trouble with myself  
> And do you still believe in me like I believe  
> I've been thinking good good things about you  
> cool and warm, good good things about you  
> ________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was approaching late August; the end of the summer when the air is muggy and warm and full of longing for it to last a just a while longer. Will laid in his bed, fully clothed from striped polo right down to a mismatched pair of tube socks cradled in his untied converse. He stared up at the ceiling studying the spots where it sagged slightly and the corners had settled; little cracks reminding him the house had grown older with him. It felt nice to sit in the stillness observing, taking a moment to let his mind wander; far away from the dark place he’d been trapped in. A whole month had passed since Will had finally let go of all of the bullshit he’d been clinging to, all of the things he’d been too afraid to admit. It would’ve been a gross understatement to say he felt freer, but he couldn’t think of any other way of describing the weight lifted after giving up on hating himself… at least a little bit. He knew it would be a long and difficult road, in more ways than one, but at least for now he finally felt a sense of ease. It had come slowly and through unpleasant means— turbulent months of grappling with his own subconscious, but he’d somehow made it out alive and he was grateful. He was grateful for the weeks of summer he got to spend finally enjoying being a relatively _normal_ fourteen year old. He smiled softly to himself, reminiscing about the last few weeks; the barbecue Hopper and his mom threw together just for the hell of it— the kind he’d always hoped for as a kid, the one he wished his own father would’ve flipped burgers at. Will had come to the realization that having Hopper around, his mom having a new boyfriend— one that truly gave a shit— was strangely what he needed. He continued to recall the past few weeks from riding bikes up to weathertop to watch the stars late at night with his friends to movie nights filled with junk food and introducing El to _Star Wars_ to hanging out with the guys and _finally_ playing d&d. But most of all, above everything, Will thought of his kiss with Mike— the secret, impossibly wonderful kiss he still couldn’t believe.

He could feel himself smiling, his grin growing bigger and bigger as he thought about how he’d gotten what he’d wanted most. And despite the knowledge that he and Mike weren’t meant to be, that Mike liked El and didn’t _like like_ him, Will felt content. He was _excited_. Today was special. Summer was drawing to a close and Hawkins was throwing a fundraiser carnival for the school. It wasn’t for anything Will was particularly interested in, but he was anxious to go. Going meant hanging out with the party for a day of carefree, stupid fun. They’d planned in advance what rides and games they were going to hit up— ones they could all enjoy and some that Will knew he might get left out of… at least romantically… but at least he had Dustin and that was plenty good enough. He blew a stray strand of hair away from his eyes as he pushed himself off the bed and towards his desk. He began rummaging around, searching for the tin where he kept all the money he’d saved up. He didn’t want to ask his mom to give him any, she worked hard and provided for him and Jonathan and he wanted to feel responsible for himself for a change. He scraped together five whole dollars and shoved it into his pants pocket carefully. _Don’t lose this Will, then you’ll be in serious shit._ He sighed as he stuffed the bills deeper. He hoped he had at least enough to indulge in overly greasy fried food, plenty of tickets, and games. He didn’t want to borrow from his friends either. Being a burden was something Will definitely tried to avoid. He’d been bummed that the party missed the 4th of July fair, but this more than made up for it. He’d been miserable then and most likely would’ve killed the vibe anyway— Not to mention they’d been fighting the mindflayer, so going to a carnival had been totally out of the question. But today was different. Today Will was seeing his friends, he was having fun, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it. He needed this desperately.

As Will double checked his pockets, taking care to secure his money, he heard the phone ring down the hall. He knew it was probably his friends, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up too much. Most of the time calls were either for his mom or Jonathan— they actually had someone to talk to. Not that Will didn’t, but all of his friends communicated over radio. Still, it would be nice to get a call every once in a while. He stepped away from his desk and made his way to the door, the phone still ringing in the distance. It seemed as though no one was going to answer it. Will had thought his mom was home, but now he wasn’t sure. He carefully made his way toward the kitchen, approaching the phone with a strange sense of trepidation. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt nervous. He was never very good at maintaining phone conversations— especially with people he didn’t know, but part of him felt that this wasn’t Nancy or Hopper or his Mom’s boss. It was probably one of his friends, someone in the party. He hoped it was Mike. He swallowed hard as he reached for the receiver, trying to push down the lump in his throat. Lifting the phone to his ear, he let a small sigh escape as the cord swayed gently into his arm. 

“Hello?” His voice cracked. _How embarrassing._

“Hey, Will!” It was Mike. Will felt his heart skip a beat. “Are you still gonna come with us to the fair? Nancy said she could drive us if you want or we could just ride our bikes there. Totally up to you.” Will could hear the smile in his voice. 

Will felt his mouth hanging slightly open, no words escaping, only breaths. He licked his lips, wetting them to relieve the sudden dryness.

“Uh yeah… sounds good.”

“Wait… Which one?” Mike laughed at Will’s lack of a real answer. “Do you want us to pick you up or are you gonna meet us?”

He felt like a love struck idiot. He was so enamored and nervous he didn’t even answer the question right. Will rose his hand to his face and palmed his forehead. _Dumb ass._

“Sorry, I got distracted. Could you guys pick me up? It’s kinda far to bike over.” He felt a little guilty. In truth the fair grounds weren’t _that_ far, but Will really just wanted to spend extra time with Mike, to make it last a little while longer.

“Sure thing. We’re gonna leave now so you better be ready when we get there or we’ll leave you behind.” Mike teased.

“Haha, okay. I’ll make sure I’m still in bed and in my pajamas. You’ll have to drag me out.” Will joked back. It felt good to have banter again and to mean it.

The boys said their goodbyes before hanging up the phone, but Will held the receiver just a little while longer. Clinging to the fading last syllables Mike spoke to him. _I’m really glad you’re coming._ He smiled to himself. Mike was happy to see him. Mike wanted to see him. _Mike Wheeler. Mike Wheeler. Michael James Wheeler._ God he was pathetic. That kiss had utterly destroyed him. He wasn’t sure if it was the biggest mistake ever made or the greatest blessing bestowed upon him, but he was certain he wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the known universe. Sure it sort of made it hard to be around Mike without getting flustered, tongue tied, and/or a blushing mess— but it was so worth it. And! It was Mike who kissed _him._ It was Mike’s decision, Mike’s idea. Part of him felt guilty, but that part lost out to the sort of triumphant satisfaction of getting what he’d wished for most. He knew it would never happen, him and Mike; but that didn’t mean he couldn’t relish in this, that he couldn’t milk it for all it was worth. Will knew that he’d have to let it go eventually, but for now he was overjoyed with the knowledge that Michael James Wheeler kissed him first. Mike occupied that sacred teenage place as the coveted _first:_ first crush, first kiss, first love.

As Will contemplated the complexities of his teenage infatuation he made his way out to the front porch to wait for Nancy to pull up in the Wheeler family station wagon. He plopped himself down on the steps, brushing his fingers over the weathered wood as he stared at his legs. The injuries he’d sustained at the pool were now distant memories; nothing now but smooth, lightly tanned skin and a whitish pink scar on his forehead that served as the only physical reminder of yet another trauma. He was so grateful he wasn’t more messed up, that those assholes didn’t permanently disfigure him. He didn’t need another thing to be teased about. And Dustin was right, the scar made him look pretty badass, much tougher than he felt. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the air release from beneath his no longer cracked ribs. It’d gotten exhausting having sharp pains jolt through him every time he inhaled too deeply. It felt good to finally be able to breathe. Breathing meant he was alive and he was so thankful that he didn’t get to follow through on his plans to end it all. He owed that to his friends, to Mike and El. They saved him. They saved him and gave him the chance to finally admit his greatest fears, to see that he didn’t have to be ashamed— at least not around them. In truth he was extremely appreciative of the entire party. He knew that without them, that without his mom and Jonathan, he might not be here. He _knew_ he wouldn’t. His brother had always told him being different was okay, that being a freak and an outsider was nothing to be afraid of. But for Will that fear was bigger than just being ostracized. It was the terror of facing violence, the fear of rejection and so in his confession came a sense of relief when the people he loved most accepted him without question. He knew deep down that it wouldn’t always be that way, that not everyone would welcome or love him despite who he was, but in someways that didn’t matter because he had all the acceptance he needed; right in his little slice of Hawkins— his friends and family. And that was enough.

The sound of tires treading gravel pulled Will from his thoughts. He looked up to see the familiar faux wood paneling of the Wheeler’s station wagon. It was filled with sun kissed teenage faces peering out the windows in anticipation of Will. He shot up from the steps, rising to his feet before hastily sprinting toward the trunk where the rear facing seat was. He liked watching the world from the back of the car, it was something different and new. He approached the car with an eager smile plastered on his face, literally spread ear to ear. He rapped the window with his knuckles as he passed Mike and El, awkwardly saying hi before hopping in the trunk and sliding in next to Dustin. The other boy pulled him from a handshake high-five combo into an overly tight hug that made Will gasp slightly before bursting into a fit of hideous laughter. It felt good to be a kid again. He quickly buckled himself in as Nancy backed out of the driveway, eyeing him in the rear view mirror and offering him a gentle smile. Will was glad Jonathan was dating Mike’s sister. He’d always liked Nancy from the time he was little. She’d been consistently nice to him and made him feel important, unlike most older kids. He smiled back at her as she pulled out onto the road and headed off toward the fair grounds. As he watched the trees pass by through the window he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes meeting El’s. There was a kindness behind them, warm and soft. She regarded him with a closed lip smile, twisting her body around in her seat to face him better. She reached out her hand, offering it for Will to hold. He gladly obliged, it was a gesture of understanding. She cared about him and he was starting to let go of his jealousy little by little.

“I’m glad you’re coming.” She said, barely above a whisper.

“Me too.” Will smiled.

Mike turned around, contorting to see his friends in the back seat. He donned a cocky grin and punched Will lightly in the arm. 

“So, What do you wanna do first? Dustin’s dying to see Steve… I can’t imagine why,” He joked.

“Hey!” Dustin shot back. “Steve’s cool, man.”

Mike rolled his eyes before returning his attention to Will. “But we don’t all have to do everything together. I know we wanted to try our luck at darts or whatever, but we all know Lucas is probably the only one who’s gonna win anything...or Max. I can’t aim for shit.”

“Me either.” Will laughed. “I can’t even throw my clothes into the hamper without missing.”

“El, could always help us cheat a little…” Dustin eyed her carefully, hoping he didn’t just invite her ire upon him. But instead it prompted a raucous fit of laughter that filled the car and coaxed happy tears from their eyes.

Will felt the all too familiar flutter building in the pit of his stomach as he watched the way Mike’s eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way his cheeks dimpled. It was undeniably cute. There was something so pure and comfortable about the awkwardness he felt, something in the sound of Mike’s chuckle— maybe the genuine joy— that made Will melt just a little bit more. _Shit._ He had it bad. It took everything in him to stop the blush that threatened to creep across his cheeks. But somehow, to his utmost surprise, he managed to stop the tell tale signs of utterly embarrassing infatuation in its tracks. _Thank God._ He swallowed hard before coming back to his senses and reentering the conversation, even if he was a little more than lost at this point. He had an unfortunate tendency to zone out a lot of the time and he could blame a good fraction of that on one Michael Wheeler. He let out one final sigh before finally noticing the strange way Dustin was staring at him. _Of course he wouldn’t understand._

“Earth to Will.” Dustin waved his hand vigorously in front of Will’s face.

Will blinked rapidly, bringing his friends into focus.

“Yeah? Sorry, I guess I zoned out.”

“Yeah, no shit…” Dustin blurted. “We’re here.” He added with a smile.

Will let out a quiet, breathy _Oh_ as he slid toward the edge of the now open trunk. He looked behind him for a moment, noticing that El and Mike were now absent before returning his gaze to Dustin. The other boy held out his hand, offering to yank him from the seat. Will obliged and hopped out into the late August heat, converse touching down on soft earth. As his eyes adjusted to the bright rays of light a hand clapped him on the back and a familiar face came into focus.

“Ready?” Mike asked.

No words escaped Will as he searched for a reply. He nodded dumbly, too enamored with his best friend to be coherent. He felt utterly and entirely lame and pathetic. _Is this how they all feel around girls?_ Will wondered silently as he followed his friends toward the ticket booth where Max and Lucas were waiting to meet them. He lagged behind them, taking up a leisurely pace to observe the action. He didn’t want to admit it, but already he felt awkward. Shuffled into a line at the ticket counter Mike, El, Max, and Lucas were all engrossed in each other. They paid more attention to holding hands and laughing than engaging with him and Dustin, though Dustin didn’t seem to mind. He seemed to be totally and completely absorbed in something far off in the distance. Will felt himself sigh involuntarily, alerting his uncoupled friend to his predicament.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just… I hope it’s not like _this_ all day.” Will nodded toward the rest of the party. Mike and El shared a quick kiss that prompted Will’s face to contort into an awkward, grossed out expression. No, he definitely _wasn’t_ jealous.

“Don’t worry. They’ll let up. You can’t keep that up all day.” Nancy laughed, approaching them from behind. “Besides, they’ll get tired of kissing eventually. It’s sort of gross to see my little brother attempting to be romantic.” She wrinkled her nose in solidarity with Will.

Will and Dustin smiled in unison. Yeah, you definitely couldn’t kiss nonstop for hours. That sounded… tedious? Painful? Will wasn’t sure, but he knew that if he were the one Mike was kissing he’d definitely be willing to prolong it as long as he possibly could. As quickly as the thought came he stamped it out of his mind. He was next in line and interacting with people, especially paying for things brought him all sorts of anxiety. _What if I can’t get the money out fast enough? What if I can’t put it away fast enough? What if the people behind me get annoyed?_ His head was full of what ifs as he tapped his foot in time to a soundless, nervous beat. He hastily bought what he hoped would be enough tickets and trailed after his friends as they made their way into the throng. Passing by countless booths of games, food, and raffles Will’s attention drifted. He was less focused on the colorful sights and sounds of the carnival rides around him and more focused on trying not to be an awkward mess. So far it wasn’t going so well. He’d been hanging toward the back of the group, sticking close to Dustin and Nancy when he noticed she’d disappeared into the crowd. He remembered her saying she was meeting his brother. He suddenly felt much less safe and fully exposed. Not that he needed protecting or that he wanted to hang out with Nancy, it was just an excuse to ignore the fact that his friends were ignoring him. Will resigned to being a fifth wheel, Dustin being seemingly more included despite the fact the others were so engrossed in their girlfriends. Will sighed. Maybe it was because Dustin could relate to them. Maybe it was because he was _normal_ and could talk about his crushes and gush about Susie. Will definitely didn’t have that luxury. So he was overjoyed when his friends turned around and proceeded to ask him what he wanted to do. _Finally. They remembered I exist._ He smiled as the realization hit him.

“This is so much better than that ego trip bullshit Mayor Klein pulled...” Mike mused before turning to face Will. “So, what do you wanna do first? “

Will blinked for several moments, looking around the sprawling fairgrounds in search of something everyone could enjoy. He scanned over countless booths, games, food stands, and rides until he locked eyes with bold, graphic letters that read _Balloon Pop._ He smirked softly to himself, studying the rainbow of colors tacked to wall, just waiting for a well aimed dart to burst them apart.

“There.” He pointed as he gauged his friends’ reactions.

The boys exchanged glances, nodding in agreement as they clapped each other on the backs with too much enthusiasm. Their girlfriends watched them with skeptical confusion. Boys were a mystery and neither of them could be quiet sure of what sort of _stupid_ thoughts ran amok inside Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and yes, even Will’s, minds. Max and El let out long, exaggerated sighs as their boyfriends yanked them in the direction of the time honored tradition of wasting your tickets on rigged, shitty prize earning, carnival games.

“Who wants to go first?” Will asked, brimming with excitement as they approached the stand.

“Well,” Dustin started. “We all suck… accept for Lucas. So… I propose the worst of us goes first and Lucas can go last. That way maybe we can prolong and avoid our inevitable shame for how shit we are.”

Will pushed down his embarrassment with a hard gulp of air before coming to terms with the unfortunate truth. “I guess I’m going first.” He sighed.

“Nah, dude. I’ll go first. You saw what happened in gym last year when I gave myself a bloody nose after attempting to shoot a basket. It didn’t even make it more than a foot away when it hit me back in the face. At least you can actually throw your mom her keys and not deck her between the eyes.” Mike laughed as he ducked his head, too ashamed to look at his friends and definitely too embarrassed to see El realize he wasn’t as cool as he wanted her to believe.

“Guys! Guys!” Lucas interrupted as he clapped his hands on Mike and Will’s shoulders. “We all know it’s Dustin who sucks most.”

“Hey! Fuck you Lucas, I play hockey. I’m coordinated, asshole.” Dustin pouted.

“Whatever, dude. Being a goalie doesn’t count. You’re blocking the net, not aiming into it.”

“Ladies, please.” Max stepped in. “You all suck and me and El should go last just to show you dip wads just how bad you are.”

The boys groaned as El and Max shared a moment of stifled laughter before they made their way through the crowd toward the booth. The field was densely packed, it seemed like the whole town was there— there were even people Will didn’t recognize, not that that was super out of the ordinary. Will knew he wasn’t very popular. More often than not he was the butt of a joke, which would definitely ensure people avoiding him; hence being strangers with even his own classmates. But all of those anxieties slipped away as the party stepped up to the booth front and saw none other than Steve “the hair” Harrington manning the stand. A wave of relief washed over the group of dorky, awkward teens as they saw Hawkins High’s one time king waiting for them. Steve looked utterly bored and downright unhappy to be there, but the moment he caught a glimpse of the party, more specifically Dustin, a huge smile worked its way to the surface. He threw his arms in the air and waved frantically at them, a sudden jolt of excitement to his otherwise temporary, carnival induced, apathy. The animated gesture lulled Dustin into a frantically excited sprint toward Mr. _damn good babysitter._

“Henderson!” Steve bellowed as the party came to a halt at the counter.

Dustin and Steve clapped hands, initiating their own bizarre secret handshake. They were an unlikely pair, seemingly fated to have found each other despite all social odds. It made Will strangely hopeful, hopeful that he might someday feel accepted outside his small bubble. A small smile curled across his lips as he anxiously tapped his fingers against the counter.

“How many tickets, man?” Dustin questioned.

Steve offered a knowing smirk, seemingly ready to taunt them. But it didn’t come to pass. Instead Steve Harrington indulged his favorite nerds.

“For you? Fifty… no! One hundred tickets.” He looked away, sneaking a glance from the corner of his eye to gauge their collective reactions.

“Seriously, asshole? The sign says two.” Mike scoffed.

“Jeez, you little shits. I’m only kidding.” Steve paused before delivering an unexpected deal. “This is a one time offer. We’ll just skip the tickets and I’ll let you guys each have a free pass. But you can’t tell anyone— I’m not running a charity here! Got it?”

“Fucking deal!” Dustin squealed with excitement.

Will felt himself rolling his eyes. Not that he was annoyed. It was just typical Steve behavior. Classic asshole moves shitty older brothers pull; stuff Jonathan would never think to do— or want to. Sometimes Will wished his brother would deliberately be a dick to him. He didn’t feel deserving of the kindness and he felt it would be easier, it would be a justification, to hate himself. But Will had resolved to trying to abandon that line of thinking and be grateful that his brother wouldn’t let him fall into that trap. So, Will could only laugh. He could only chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation; popular former asshole and high school heartthrob befriends a bunch misfit nerds. He let out a deep, comfortable sigh as he watched Dustin impatiently snatch darts from Steve’s outstretched hand. _So much for Mike or me going first._ He felt a sense of relief at the prospect of putting off inevitably making a fool of himself and smiled. One by one Dustin aimed and released the flimsy darts toward the wall of balloons, only missing a few times. Will was admittedly impressed, though to be fair Dustin did play a sport— even if Lucas questioned its validity. Steve gave a slow clap, an astonished round of applause that acknowledged his approval. It seemed that come the start of the school year Dustin might just have a shot at being Steve 2.0.

“Color me impressed, Henderson.” Steve offered a high-five to his protégé.

Turning to Lucas, Dustin chided. “See Lucas! I can fucking aim you asshole.”

Lucas held his hands up in protest, surrendering to Dustin’s point. His eyes darted anxiously, catching his girlfriend in his sights. Max was rightfully pissed— he’d been a dick. It was a running theme in their party to pick on each other; all light hearted of course. But boys will be boys and sometimes they admittedly got carried away. The look in Max’s eyes was enough to send shivers up Will’s spine and so he turned his gaze elsewhere, eyeing anything that would relieve him of the awkward tension. This wasn’t his fight and he sure as hell wasn’t about to get caught in the crossfires; so he watched Mike instead.

Ignoring the bickering circulating between Max, Lucas, and Dustin; Will turned his attention back towards the game. Mike faced him, breathing a judgmental, yet slightly relieved sigh, his cheeks puffing out before forfeiting his involvement into a heavy exhale. He put his back to the quarrel and offered his full, undivided attention. The two of them let out deep, uninhibited laughs so intense it made Will’s sides hurt. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as El offered up her own laugh-stifled smile. The three of them were highly amused by the dynamic; Max and Lucas and their pet— or maybe metaphorical son? Pain in the ass? Third wheel? Dustin. Their laughter wound down and gave way to Mike’s bourgeoning anxiety over having to follow the time honored social convention of impressing and winning a prize for your girlfriend. He looked desperately to Will, begging for encouragement. The smaller boy offered a flimsy grin and an eager thumbs up. Will was definitely a little jealous, but he wouldn’t deliberately sabotage Mike’s chances of impressing El. He could be a shitty friend sometimes, but he wasn’t that much of an asshole. Mike swallowed hard before turning his attention to Steve, brows knit in determined concentration.

“Dart me, Harrington.” He said as he held out a a pale, spindly hand.

Steve let out a small chuckle as he placed a handful of yellow darts in Mike’s palm. The younger boy looked at the ammunition with rising anxiety before glancing at his best friend one last time before committing to his decision. El stepped closer to Will, standing behind him with her hand and chin on resting on his shoulder as Mike squared up. The two of them watched him as he squinted awkwardly at the rainbow of balloons lined up before him. Scrunching one eye shut and letting his tongue poke out slightly, Mike took aim. He mimicked the release several times before finally thrusting a dart at the wall. A distinctive loud _pop_ rung through the air as the sharpened tip made contact. To Mike’s surprise, and Will’s, he actually managed to break one— and not just any balloon. He’d managed to pop the most important balloon of all; the yellow, confetti filled one that everyone wants to burst, but no one can manage to find. Mike’s jaw dropped in awe of his own miraculous luck. He’d won El the grand prize; the biggest, most expensive looking stuffed animal— a white tiger. Steve plucked the plush cat down from the rack overhead and held it out for Mike.

“Shit, Wheeler. That’s some fucking luck you’ve got there.” Steve remarked.

Mike’s shoulders dropped as a wave of relief washed over him, dispelling any lingering tension he held in his body. He turned to face El and Will, a huge surprised grin etched on his face. He surrendered the dog-sized stuffed tiger to El, a subtle blush dusting his cheeks as her fingers grazed his. She darted her eyes to the ground as a tinge of pink colored her face, too. The two were locked in a sappy, puppy love moment, poised to share a kiss. Once more Will felt jealousy threatening to rise up inside him. He tried desperately to shove it back down as he watched the way El slid her fingers into Mike’s, proceeding to gently sway their hands back and forth. She cradled the stuffed animal, her nose pressed into the fluffy white fur on it’s head as she held Mike in her gaze. Will could see the smile hidden behind her prize and it made his heart sink. In the back of his mind, before the day had even started, he’d feared this exact scenario. He’d lamented the possibility of his friends becoming preoccupied with their relationships and now a sense of dread was threatening to ruin the precious last few moments of summer. Will searched frantically for something to distract him from dwelling on his unrequited crush. His eyes scanned over the the rides from the Ferris wheel to the scrambler. He grazed past the food vendors; funnel cake, hotdogs, cotton candy— taking in the smells and colors around him in an attempt to remain grounded when he saw _it…_ Standing not fifty feet away was quite possibly the most beautiful boy Will had ever seen. Will felt his breath catch in his throat. His heart raced faster and he felt slightly lightheaded as his eyes took in the unfamiliar, beguiling boy standing in line for bumper cars behind Tammy Thompson. Will swallowed hard, hoping his face didn’t just send out a blush stricken gay APB.

Will observed the stranger. He looked young, most likely around his own age— somewhere between 8th and 10thgrade. He was taller than him, though most people were, but Will didn’t seem to mind. If his crush on Mike was anything to go by Will had a preference for tall boys. His face felt increasingly hotter as he studied the mysterious boy. He wore a pair of beat up red converse, cutoff jean shorts, a button up graphic patterned shirt, and a pair rounded glasses that perfectly framed his dark brown eyes. Something about his clothes, about his demeanor, told Will he wasn’t from Hawkins. He was far too _cool_. He sort of reminded him of David Byrne, the lead singer of the Talking Heads. Yeah, definitely too cool to be from Hawkins. He had to be visiting from out of town— Indianapolis, Cincinnati , Chicago. He was definitely a city kid. It made Will like him more. His hands felt clammy as he continued to study the cute, not from Hawkins boy. Time seemed to move incredibly slow, almost as if it froze just to grant him a few more stolen glances. Will knew he shouldn’t stare, he knew how he’d fared last time he got caught staring, and yet he couldn’t look away. He felt utterly drawn to this out-of-towner, as if he was _supposed_ to see him, supposed to look. He let out a breathy sigh, desperately trying to ignore his heat flushed face and racing heart. Will Byers was hopeless. He was utterly captivated and had fallen prey to the inconvenience and probable danger of finding someone attractive. Shaking his head in an attempt to snap out of it, he drew the attention of his friends. _You’re in deep shit now, Will._

“Will? Are you okay?” El shook him gently.

Dumbstruck and tongue tied, he could only nod. He continued looking off into the distance at who he was now internally dubbing as “city boy.”

“Earth to Will?” Lucas snapped his fingers in front of his face. “We’re gonna go get in line for bumper cars. Are you coming or not?”

 _Bumper cars._ Will swallowed as he turned around to face his friends. _City boy’s in line for bumper cars._

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Max asked as she exchanged knowing glances with El, the two of them smiling covertly, sharing some sort of mysterious secret behind their grins.

“Yea— Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice cracked horribly. _Great. I’m fucked._

The party bid Steve goodbye, promising to come back later and rescue him from being utterly miserable after dealing with what he’d dubbed “obnoxious families” all day. He called after them, classic snark peppering his voice— “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Mike and Will rolled their eyes in unison as they made their way to the long, slow moving bumper cars line. The gang fell into a natural rhythm, bantering back and forth among them. But Will’s attention was no where near the party, no, his eyes were fixed ten people ahead and locked on the handsome boy he was so desperately trying to forget. He could feel himself fidgeting; drumming his hands mindlessly against his thigh, chewing his lip, and bouncing his leg, foot tapping the ground in steady intervals. His anxiety was high, a conscious mix of fear and excitement for seemingly impossible possibilities that stood only feet away. He swallowed hard, a deep, audible sigh escaping soon after. His flustered state was clearly visible. It was fairly obvious to his friends that he was _preoccupied._ This wasn’t frozen in fear, isolate yourself, never talk about what’s bothering you Will. This was the _holy shit I’m anxious_ Will. An air of knowing rose up in his friends, all of them certain that this wasn’t the bad kind of anxiety, it was _excitement._ Nervous jitters of anticipation. Captivated by the not so distant stranger, Will was utterly unaware of anything and everything else around him. Time seemed to stand still and move far too fast all at once. He felt his heart flutter every time city boy smiled or when the clouds passed just enough to let the sun cast him in a soft light. He was an awkward mess, experiencing infatuation he’d been to afraid to let himself feel— even for Mike.

“Will… is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Max spoke up, quirking her eyebrow in amusement.

Will blinked vigorously, trying to find his bearings. “I— uh…” When did his mouth get so dry? “I just… I got distracted.” His eyes glanced back at city boy before guiltily darting back to his feet.

“Yeah, we can see that.” She laughed.

“Show me.” El interjected. “Who is he?” Her tone was suggestive and questioning. _Shit._

Will’s eyes grew comically wide, his face growing redder at the realization he wasn’t at all subtle. He sighed, defeated. He surrendered to his embarrassment and gave into his friends demands. He looked up to meet the girls’ gaze, bottom lip drawn in between his teeth as he mustered some semblance of courage to point out the cause of his predicament. He raised a shaky finger, directing his friends towards his new found crush. Huge, shit-eating grins worked their way across his friends’ faces in rapid succession. Will tensed as he felt a hand clap him on the shoulder.

“Talk to him.” Mike smiled.

“But—.” Will stuttered.

“No. No buts, Will. You like him right? As your friends we’re invoking our right to exercise peer pressure.” Lucas leaned his arm on Will’s shoulder.

Max crossed her arms. “You’re talking to him. You’re gonna go say hi or some shit or so help me god I will drag you over there myself. You’ve practically been boring a hole into his head with how much you’re staring.”

Will glanced around, looking for any way to escape his friends unshakable insistence. He had to face the facts. There was no hope of making a break for it. He was trapped, both in his friends’ eager persuasion and his stupid, stupid feelings. He couldn’t run even if he wanted to. As he worried and mulled over Max’s threat the line slowly shrunk until they were only thirteen people from the front. Will glanced back at his friends who were now staring impatiently at him. _Great. Just what I need…_ Will watched as the thirteen dwindled to eleven. His heart began to pound louder and louder until its steady beat drowned out almost everything around him. In a momentary lull the thrumming in his ears subsided and Will managed to register: “Any single riders?” Before catching Max, El, and Mike waving their arms vigorously behind him before forcefully pushing him to the front of the line. City boy was next in line, riding by himself and now Will was about the be thrust into a bumper car with the stranger he’d been pinning over for the better part of an hour. He gasped as his uncoordinated gait caused him to crash straight into the boy. He stumbled, arms raised awkwardly both in defense and safety. He felt himself make contact with city boy’s side. _Shit._ He swallowed hard as his eyes dragged up to slowly meet the victim of his clumsiness. Shock spread over Will’s face as he registered the other boy’s expression. It was amusement, not anger. Will felt utterly confused. _Why isn’t he yelling at me? He should be pissed?_ He tried to look elsewhere, but his eyes were fixed on city boy’s perfect smile that hardly contained a soft laugh.

“I— I’m so sorry.” The mortification was apparent in his voice.

“No worries.” He grinned. It was way too friendly, too understanding. “My friends can be pretty mean, too.” He joked as they were pushed toward an open bumper car.

City boy slid in first. He was coordinated and nimble, the complete opposite of Will. He strapped himself in before looking up at Will with a quizzical, almost offended expression.

“You just gonna stand there or are you getting in?” His tone was far from patronizing. If anything it was _inviting._ “I promise I don’t bite or anything.” He smiled.

Will nodded awkwardly, attempting to swallow down his nerves as he stepped into the ride. He buckled in, hand brushing against the other boy’s leg as he reached for the belt. A deep pink blush rose to the surface of his cheeks, threatening to out him right then and there. He hoped to god that the boy didn’t notice. He prayed with everything he had that he didn’t appear as awkward as he felt. He let out a deep sigh before dropping his shoulders.

“You nervous? I get it, carnival rides can be sorta terrifying. They’re not the safest thing to ride, but the rush you get after the initial freak fest is pretty cool.” He grinned.

“No… I’m not nervous.” Will’s voice cracked again. “Not about the ride. I love bumper cars actually.”

“Yeah? Then what’s eating you, uh—“ He paused waiting for Will to say his name.

“Wi—Will.” He stuttered before looking to meet the other boy’s gaze. _Big mistake._ He could feel himself getting clammy. _Jeez, Will. Way to freak him out._

“Danny.” He offered a friendly smile and an outstretched hand for Will to shake.

 _Danny._ Will thought. He tried to stifle the urge to whisper his name. City boy— Danny— was even cuter up close. His smile was bright, his eyes were lively, and he was welcoming. All the things Will liked in Mike. _Shit._

“I’m just mad at my friends.” Will huffed.

Danny twisted in the pleather seat, his leg making brief contact with Will’s as he searched for the party. He caught Mike and El in his sights. They were making their way to the last of the empty cars, giggling and holding hands.

“I see what you mean.” A sympathetic tone peppering every syllable.

Will nodded as he glanced back at his friends. _Mike, you asshole. I’ll get you for this._

“You wanna steer? We can wail on your friends.”

“I’d like that.” Will smiled. “Mike deserves it.”… “ _Jerk.”_ Muttered shortly after.

“Seems like your friends are more into those girls than hanging with you.” He sounded sad. “Let’s show them just how much they’re missing out. Make ‘em regret ignoring you.”

Will smiled softly. “Thanks.”

“Happy to copilot.”

The distinct electrical whir of cars coming to life rang out in the air, bringing Will to attention. He was ready to do this, ready to take out his frustration and jealousy on Mike and El— in a healthy way. He wasn’t actually that mad, or mad at all really, he had just needed an excuse to avoid telling Danny that he was hopelessly crushing on him. The bumper car jolted and Will touched his foot to the pedal, springing it forward in a mad dash toward Mike’s purple and black car. Danny acted as his guide, keeping look out and warning him of road blocks to their target. They made a good team. Will was typically one to get hit more times than he smashed into other people, but today— with Danny as his eyes— he was on a roll. Bulldozing people left and right, Will actually felt _confident._ He could feel his competitive side slipping out, egging him on in his quest to hit his best friend. Danny smiled eagerly beside him, laughing in amazement every time Will managed to knock someone else. He clapped a hand on Will’s shoulder, an encouraging grin taking shape as he pointed out Mike fast approaching. The two cars engaged like dueling knights in a joust, determined to knock into the other. Will could see Danny’s grip tighten on the safety bar as they approached, excitement thrumming through him. In an instant Will managed to do something he’d never manage before; he collided with Mike and El, t-boning their car. _Yes. Victory._ He did a subtle gloating gesture before looking to see the look of utter shock and defeat on Mike’s usually smug face. Slowly it turned into a fit of laughter that radiated between the friends and their respective ride partners. Danny and El joining in as the volume increased. As the ride slowed to a stop Will turned toward Danny and nodded out a _thanks._ The other boy smiled, adjusting his now askew glasses. He was a little breathless and flushed from laughter and adrenaline. Impossibly and effortlessly handsome.

“No problem, Will.” He said as he unbuckled and rose from his seat, ready to head out.

“Wait!” Will blurted. _Shit, what are you doing?_ “Do you wanna stick around and hang out with me and the party?”

“The party?” Danny questioned.

“Yeah— me and my friends.” He offered a shy smile as he hopped out of the ride.

“Yeah, actually. That’d be rad.” He paused. “My cousin kinda ditched me…”

“Sounds like an asshole.”

“Yep. Tammy’s a real bitch.” He groaned.

“Tammy Thompson’s your cousin?” Will inquired as he noticed Mike and El waiting by the exit with the rest of the gang.

“Mhmm. I can’t say I like her much, but my mom forced us to come down to visit before we head back to Chicago. As much as I can’t stand her, I’m kinda glad she dragged me here…” Will could swear he saw Danny blush.

He swallowed hard before the two of them made their way toward his friends.

“I’m glad she did too.”

Will had no idea where this sudden boost in confidence had come from, but he wasn’t complaining. He found it strangely easy to talk to Danny. Danny from Chicago; the nice boy from the big city who didn’t get mad when he fell into him. The boy who helped him plot and execute his petty revenge on his friends. The boy who was about to meet and spend time with those very same friends. _Fuck._

“Will!” Max called out. “Who’s your new friend?” Her face was smug and teasing.

Will rolled his eyes in embarrassment before standing beside his friends with Danny in tow.

“This is Danny. Tammy Thompson’s cousin.”

The party collectively grimaced.

“I feel so bad for you, man.” Dustin clapped him on the shoulder. “Steve and Robin said she’s a real bitch… Shit! I didn’t mean to insult your cousin!”

Danny let out an amused laugh. “Nah, it’s okay. We don’t really get along. She thinks I’m… weird.” He gestures at his outfit.

“Welcome to the club, then.” Mike offers with a smile as he not so subtly winks at Will.

Will gives Mike the _fuck you_ stare before the newly acquainted group sets off in the direction of cheap, grease addled carnival food. As they stroll over to the funnel cake stand Will and Danny linger behind a bit. They walk in awkward unison before attempting to break the silence.

“Thanks for letting me hang with you guys. It was getting kinda boring with Tammy and her friend Carol or Sheryl or whatever her name was.”

“Yeah, no problem. All of us know what that feels like.” Will smiled.

The party collects before the stand, waiting to order. Will looks anxiously at the menu, his nerves threatening to get the better of him. He feels movement behind him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as an arm rests itself on his shoulder. It belongs to Danny who’s deep in thought about what he’ll get.

“What do you want, Will? My treat.” He glances down at Will with a shy grin before returning to the menu.

“You don’t have to do that, seriously.” Embarrassment clearly showing.

“I want to. You rescued me from hardcore third wheeling in a place I barely know. I’d say that deserves treating.”

Will could see Max and El looking back at him with happily antagonizing grins as they attempted to stifle their giggles. He’d totally get them for this later. He sighed before finally ignoring them and choosing something inexpensive. He glances briefly at Danny before they’re next to order and mutters his choice.

“Is ice cream okay?”

“Totally.” He smiles. “Chocolate and vanilla twist?”

Will nods just as Danny drops an unexpected ask.

“You wanna share? I kind of want the same thing and it’s cheaper to get a big one instead of two smalls.” He shrugs, an awkward nervousness suddenly taking over his once confident demeanor.

Will’s nod mingles with confused blinking before blurting out _sure_ as he slowly dies inside from embarrassment.

The boys made their way to the table occupied by the rest of the party. Will and Danny have already settled into their own sort of banter well before they join the group, falling into a natural easiness. As they took their seats Will noticed Max and El whispering to each other before abruptly pulling apart, giggling. He attempted to ask them what’s so funny, but they avoid his questions with _oh nothings_ and _none of your business, Will, it’s girl stuff._ He sighs as Danny slides closer to him, a mix of annoyance with his friends and anticipation of what might happen between him and the strangely kind boy he’d met only an hour ago. Fitting in with the party seems like an easy task for Danny, despite the initial awkwardness. Will learns he’s a huge nerd who loves _Star Trek_ and _Star Wars._ “See guys! You don’t have to choose one!” Lucas sided with him. Danny was into a lot of the same things in fact; the Clash, horror movies and sci-fi, and surprisingly D&D. Will, and his friends, had assumed that someone who seemed so cool couldn’t possibly like something as nerdy as a fantasy role playing game, but here he was. And he played a cleric, just like Will. Most interestingly, at least to Will, was that Danny liked art just as much as he did. He said he’d wanted to go to school for graphic design and admired Saul Bass (who Will had never heard of, but Danny told him he’d designed dozens of movie posters from _The Shining_ to _West Side Story_ to _The Graduate.)_ He’d fit in almost seamlessly, Will’s friends appraising and giving subtle hints of approval throughout their time at the table. The two boys passed the ice cream between them, Will almost to nervous to take a taste with the knowledge they’re sharing. _At least it’s not a cone._ He sighed. _Then we’d have to…_ He didn’t want to imagine the back and forth exchange of having to take turns licking it— _in public._ He swallowed hard before raising a spoonful of semi-melted ice cream to his lips. He could feel the burning heat of blush threatening to spread across his cheeks every time their hands brushed or he stole not so subtle glances at Danny. He found himself incredibly drawn to him; from his style, to his interests, to the way he looked— long lashes and deep brown eyes that seemingly stole those glances Will was thieving right back.

They sat at the table a while longer just enjoying each other’s company, the party welcoming Danny as though he’d been a long time member. They bickered for a while, trying to figure out what to do next. It was a difficult choice it seemed, the party split in multiple directions with only an inkling of commonality between them. Dustin wanted to go back to Steve, Mike and El wanted to go on the Ferris wheel, and Max begged everyone to go on the scrambler— to which Lucas agreed. He’d since learned not to argue with her. Max was _always_ right. Will’s gazed at his friends and Danny, trying to come up with a decision they could all agree on. He mulled it over for a while before he felt there was definitely some sort of compromise they could find. The _Himalaya—_ that ride that goes around in a circle while cheesy pop music plays and you inevitably end up sliding into the person unfortunate enough to be on the inside. It had the appeal of all the choices, minus Steve. You rode with a partner and it went in a circle— that’s what they liked about the other rides, right? And so Will offered up his suggestion, to which his friends surprisingly agreed. Though deep down Will began to regret it as they approached, both for the realization that he was about to ride with Danny— seeing as Dustin blew them off to hang with Steve— and that he’d just eaten before getting on a ride. Too late to back down, Will swallowed his budding qualms as he watched Danny take the inside seat behind Mike and El’s. Will slid in cautiously, trying not to seem too awkward as got closer to him. The sound of Prince’s _Let’s Go Crazy_ blared out of the speakers as the attendant lowered their safety bars, the fast beat matching Will’s heart rate. _Here we go, Will. Be cool, be cool. You’ve got this._ And the ride started up, gradually orbiting until rapidly picking up speed. The realization of the unavoidable truth began to cross Will’s mind— he would inevitably slide right into Danny. _Shit._

Spinning in what seemed like an impossibly fast pace, Will felt himself sliding, gravity begin to pull him closer to Danny, threatening to press him up against him. _This was a horrible idea! YOUR horrible idea!_ He let out a gasp as he once again slammed into Danny’s side, prompting a soft chuckle from the taller boy’s lips. Will felt his face grow hotter, a disgustingly embarrassing sweat threatening to start building. He swallowed hard before the seemingly impossible happened. Tucked beneath the safety bar, hidden from view by speed, Danny placed his hand over Will’s. He gripped it firmly, though there was a gentleness attached to the gesture. He laced his fingers between Will’s, giving his hand a light squeeze in reassurance. Will could feel his pulse quicken. He was sure Danny could too. They remained like this for several minutes until the ride slowly decelerated, Will deciding it was time to let go on the last few rounds. But Danny didn’t let go. He kept Will’s hand locked in his, gazing down at their interlaced fingers between shy, bashful smiles at Will. Eventually he released his grip as the last song filtered out of the speakers. With the start of Bonnie Tyler’s _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ Will felt a warm, comforting weight linger over his right shoulder. He glanced briefly to see Danny’s arm draped over the back of the seat, hand lazily resting on his shoulder. It was everything Will had wanted and the very thing he feared most; _intimacy with a boy._ It was the kind he’d dreamt about with Mike, the kind he feared would never happen, and the kind he feared if it ever took place. But in this moment he was content in the sappy awkwardness he’d long been jealous of. He would let himself relish in this. The ride came to a stop. Danny carefully drew back his arm as he looked at Will, a breathlessness washing over him. They stared at each other for a moment before the shadows of excited Mike, El, Max, and Lucas loomed over them; teasing grins encouraging whatever sort of private exchange was taking place. Will felt his blush deepen. He felt utterly exposed and guilty and yet part of him didn’t care.

“We’re gonna head to the Ferris wheel if you guys wanna come.” El offered, tilting her head and quirking an eyebrow knowingly in the boys’ direction.

Will swallowed hard, an answer trapped in his throat; though he wasn’t quite sure what it was. He breathed out before attempting to respond, but Danny beat him to it.

“Sounds good to me.” He paused. “You wanna ride together?” He smiled as he gauged Will’s reaction.

Will could feel the awkward stutter escape as he uttered the word _yes._ It felt foreign in his mouth, like it came from someone else, but the voice was entirely his own. After departing the ride, the party headed off toward the suddenly imposing Ferris wheel. It had grown late, sunset fast approaching as they queued up. Will felt the nerves that had been budding and festering since he’d first seen the mysterious, seemingly untouchable boy from Chicago that morning. His nausea induced anxiety he hadn’t felt since telling his friends the truth began to resurface as he waited in line— though maybe it was from eating before getting on a notoriously dizziness inducing ride. He couldn’t be quite sure, but he knew that no matter how hard he tried the couldn’t shake the nerves. He felt this overwhelming sense of confusion, infatuation, and fear. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been reading things wrong… Danny seemed to _like_ him. _Come on Will. There’s no way he’s flirting with you. He’s not into you. You’re imagining things. It’s not possible. He’s just being nice._ He swallowed hard as they approached their seat. It was just the two of them occupying the car, it was the hooded kind that usually sat four people, but they had been the last in line and his friends had all conveniently— or rudely— left him alone with the boy he was hopeless pining after. They took their seats and Will’s mind refused to quiet, thoughts racing in silent anticipation and doubt. _But, what if he does LIKE you? What if he is into you? What then?_ He looked at Danny briefly before glancing at his feet. He was unsure of what to do next and so they sat in silence as their car slowly climbed higher.

He could feel eyes on him, Danny’s eyes. They were full of a mix of concern and curiosity. He slid closer to Will, his hand gently grasping his just as he had on the _Himalaya._ Will didn’t know why, he couldn’t fathom why his body was ignoring all of his pleas to stop, but he leaned into Danny. His head fell softly onto the other boy’s shoulder, resting there as they watched the sky paint itself into beautiful hues of purple, pink, and orange. He let out a soft exhale as Danny wrapped his arm around him, pulling their bodies closer. It was so gentle, so incredibly warm and soft. It was the type of gesture Will had desired, the kind he’d had dreams about… with _Mike._ But right now Mike didn’t matter, right now it was just him and Danny. He felt his breathing slow to a steady sync with Danny’s, his hand squeezing gently around his as they were only one car away from the top. When they approached the crest, the ride stopped for a moment, for what seemed like lifetimes as their gazes met. The brilliant hues of the sunset reflected in Danny’s eyes as he slid his hands toward Will’s face, leaning in close.

“Is this okay?” He uttered in a hushed, anxious tone.

“More than okay.” Will whispered as he closed the distance between them.

The kiss was everything he’d wanted. It was everything he’d shared with Mike, but more. It was sweet and tentative, their lips brushing hesitantly as they leaned in. Danny held Will’s neck and cheek carefully, almost as if he were afraid this wasn’t real, that he’d wake up and Will would be gone. His eyes fluttered open as he pulled away, returning to the awkward posture he’d had only moments before.

“I— I wanted to do that since I saw you in line this morning.” He confessed.

Will sat there stunned. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He kissed a boy. _In public._ He could feel the fear welling up inside him until he realized they were still at the top of the Ferris wheel and were secluded from view. He smiled softly to himself as he leaned back into Danny, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Me too.” He squeezed Danny’s hand back.

As they made their way back down the realization struck that they’d have to return back to _normal,_ that they’d have to pretend like nothing happened. But Will doubted he could, the bashful, proud smile etched deep into his face. But he knew that he had to. As he exited the ride he could see his friends waiting for him, excited smiles greeting the pair. Will approach them nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he caught El in his sights. She smirked at him, suggesting that she knew, but wordlessly promising not to tell. Rejoining the party they prepared to move on to the next round of rides before a voice called out through the crowd.

“Danny! Danny you asshole, I’ve been looking all over for you! It’s time to go.” Tammy approached them, annoyance clear on her face.

“What are you doing hanging out with these dip wads?” She popped her gum as she made eye contact with Will.

“They’re not losers. They’re fun… they showed me around and didn’t ditch me— unlike you.” He huffed.

“Come on, dip-shit. Time to go.” She barked.

“But—” he protested

“No, buts. We’re leaving. I’m supposed to hang out with Tommy H. and you’re not blowing this for me.” And she yanked him away from the party.

He waved sadly at his new friends, a clear pang of heartache washing over him as he was dragged off. Will’s shoulders dropped. Crestfallen, he managed to sadly wave back before turning back to the party with a dejected sigh. El looked at him, her eyes sympathetic as she pulled him into a hug. As Will pulled away he heard footsteps behind him, quick paced running skidding to a halt. He spun around. Before him stood a breathless Danny. Bent with hands on his knees and glasses slightly askew, he smiled up at Will. He held something in his hand, holding it out for Will to take. Before He could process the series of events Danny had pulled him into a tight, prolonged hug after shoving what felt like a napkin to Will’s chest. He bid the party one final goodbye before belting out:

“Don’t be a stranger, Will!”

Will stood there for several moments before glancing down at his hand. Held tightly in his grasp was a napkin with quickly scrawled words written in blue pen. _An address— and a phone number. Danny’s address and phone number._ Will clutched it to his chest before turning back to face his friends, a deep red blush washing over him. Blinking them into focus he was met with excited, proud smiles.

“Congratulations, Will.” Mike clapped him on the back, a genuine happiness in his voice.

Soon after Danny had departed, the party too left. Finding Nancy and pilling in the car they headed home. The whole way his friends begged him for details, to which Will was too embarrassed to share— though he promised he would the next time they hung out. It happened to fall on his birthday, August 28th; only a day away. He smiled to himself the whole way home, silently relishing in the happiness he’d so desperately longed for. Nancy pulled up to the Byers’, turning in her seat to bid him good night with a smile. He hopped out the back, his friends yelling after him with kind teases and goodbyes before he bolted into the house and straight for his room. He was grateful no one was home yet as he plopped down at his desk. He rummaged excitedly through the drawers, looking for a pen and paper. Finding a perfectly crisp sheet of untouched paper Will tapped his pen thoughtfully to his lips, thinking long and hard about the words he would say. An excited nervousness bubbled in the pit of his stomach as he lowered the pen to paper.

_Dear Danny…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I gave Mike a middle name because you know how when you’re a dumb love struck teenager and you repeat/ write your crush’s full name on everything when you learn it? Yeah. So I just gave him one that felt like it flowed with the rest of his name. So sue me. Also yes, calling Will’s new crush Danny “city boy” was a nod to Finn’s band Calpurnia 😊


End file.
